The Caretaker
by Aurette
Summary: Ron saves Snape's life after the Battle of Hogwarts, invoking a new life debt, and something else... AU, EWE?, SS/HG, M for Language and Sexuality.
1. Prisoner 19 241

**AN:** This story is canonesque right up until JKR, got on my nerves. I have stuck close to the end of DH, with the obvious exception, and, while still blatantly stealing large chucks of the Epilogue, I have jettisoned most of it and messed with the ages of the kids. I have also completely reinvented the concept of the life debt and tossed in one or two other things as well.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything, well, what she didn't sell to Warner Bros, anyway. I make no money.

* * *

_After the final Battle:_

The quiet moans and groans of the wounded and the grieving of the bereft had tormented Ronald Weasley until he felt compelled to do _something_. Harry had been victorious, but the cost had been devastating. He had joined Madam Pomfrey as she hustled swiftly throughout the Great Hall, working methodically alongside the school nurse to save those that they could. He watched intently as she cast spell after spell on adults and students, reversing jinxes and hexes with ease and working frantically to counter the darker curses that twisted and tormented the fallen. He stood by, ready with whatever potion she needed, until she had finally released him to take a break. He found himself staring down at the body of his brother Fred, laid out next to Tonks and Remus Lupin on the floor of the Great Hall. He was overwhelmed and distraught at all the death and destruction around him. His parents were sitting with their other living children in the corner and together they made an intense ball of grief that clawed at him. His hands were full of medications and potions but everyone seemed to be stable at the moment and he felt quite useless again. Looking from his brother to the other bodies, it suddenly hit him that someone was missing.

It was a relatively short time later that a rather smug Ronald Weasley came back into the Great Hall levitating Severus Snape carefully in front of him. He had used up every single potion and medication he had been carrying and the Professor's neck was neatly bandaged. Ronald had been very proud of himself; Snape had been but moments from death's door when Ron had arrived. However, his feeling of accomplishment was rather short-lived. Despite Harry's dramatic unveiling of Snape's loyalties during the battle, no one was happy to see the former Headmaster had survived after all. It was easier to give grudging respect to a bastard one knew was dead than have to deal with understandably complicated feelings about a murderer and tyrant who looked like he would have the bad grace to survive thanks to Ron's timely intervention. It was obvious from the faces staring at him with quiet condemnation that Ron's deed was not particularly well-received. Only Harry, Hermione, and Ginny had seen Ron's actions as heroic. Even Madam Pomfrey seemed a bit put out when he brought the professor over to her to finish his healing. Ron's earnest smile had died in the face of such subtle censure and, in his delicate emotional state, it didn't take much for pride to turn into resentment towards the injured man. Especially when he sought out the reassurance of his girl and she brushed him off to help tend to the git.

Harry had talked himself blue trying to get them all to understand that Snape had been a hero and had been Dumbledore's man all along, but those at the school had suffered under Snape's term as Headmaster for months on end and thought that the man had played his role a little too easily to have been working on the side of light so completely. Harry pled his case in vain.

When Severus Snape woke up in St Mungo's a month later, he was displeased. He had never intended to survive, so waking up was a source of great distress.

Worse, still, was the fact that he now, apparently, owed Ronald Weasley a life debt. Owing someone a life debt carried obligations; owing a life debt for a _second_ time came with even more.

He had barely had time to digest that development when he was arrested and charged with murder, high crimes and misdemeanors.

* * *

_Fifteen Years Later:_

Prisoner 19-241 watched the Warden's eyes for signs of a lie. He had no concept of time, a common malady among the prisoners of Azkaban, and had been subjected to far crueler torments over the years than a false promise of release. He didn't honestly know if his time had been served or not, but the Warden didn't display any of the usual signs associated with deception.

"What? Have you nothing to say?" Warden Smythebotle asked with incredulity. He looked over at one of the guards. "I say, he does have all his gobstones still, doesn't he? You know he's politically connected. It won't look good if he drools in front of the press."

"He's in good order, sir. He's just a surly sort, that one. If you want, sir, we can take him outside and teach him a bit of respect." The guard's eyes narrowed at Prisoner 19-241. "Again."

"No, no, no," the Warden interjected. "Did you not hear what I just said? He's been released. You can't touch him now." The Warden shuffled papers around on his desk and picked up a large stamp and proceeded to bang it down on various important-looking documents and signing them.

Prisoner 19-241 turned his head and stared into the eyes of the guard who had taken such…_pleasure_ in the prisoner's torment these last fifteen years. The guard paled and fingered his wand.

With a final flourish, the Warden dropped the quill to the desk and stood up.

"Alright, Blanchers, here's his paperwork. Take him down to the entrance and turn him over to the Aurors there. Keep him in the chains and don't remove his cuff, he's not completely free."

The prisoner's eyes seemed to fade out and the guard's eyes started to get a cruel gleam at the Warden's words.

"Fine then, all's in order, take him away. I have to say, based on his Vitae I have a suspicion this might not be the last I see of him," the Warden said with disdain.

The guard grabbed the prisoner's elbow and hauled him towards the door.

*

Harry Potter was up to his ears in Auror reports and stress when his workday was disturbed. He wasn't sure what had disturbed him more, the sound of the people standing in the doorway of his office, or the smell of the prisoner they held between them.

He stood up quickly when he saw who it was.

"Come in!" he said as he came out from behind his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Harry watched as the man took short, jerky steps toward the chair and looked down at the manacles on his feet. Obviously someone was having a lark at the prisoner's expense because the chain between the man's feet was ridiculously short. Harry's face clouded over in anger. He looked up at his men.

"Off. Get those off him now," he snapped. One of the Aurors rushed over and released the prison-issue manacles. His hand hovered over the wide, iron ring around the prisoner's wrist that kept his magic bound and the Auror gave his boss a questioning look.

"Leave that. He's to keep it on."

"You may leave us and have some tea sent in, if you would." The two Aurors left without further word and Harry closed his office door behind them.

He spun back toward the prisoner and, seeing the state he was in, pulled out his wand and hit him with a cleaning spell. He regretted it instantly when he saw the man's uncontrolled flinch.

"I'm sorry about that, sir. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was thinking, beyond the fact that you were filthy. I do it to my kids all the time. They are always getting into messes and I don't even stop to think about it anymore." Harry fell silent when he realized how badly he was babbling.

Severus Snape recovered quickly from his momentary fear and sneered at Harry's words, but remained silent.

The room filled with awkward, tension-filled silence as the two men regarded each other.

The soft pop of the tea tray appearing on the desk broke the mood, and Harry looked at it gratefully.

"Would you like some tea, sir?"

The smell of the tea had set Snape's mouth watering, and he had a momentary struggle while he tried to keep his eyes from watering as well.

"Yes, Potter, I would like that very much," he said politely. His voice was rough and scratchy.

Harry wondered if it was from disuse, or if it was permanent damage from the wounds inflicted by Nagini.

He poured his old professor a cup of tea and then gestured to the tray.

"There's milk, sugar and lemon, if you'd like," he said unnecessarily.

Snape's eloquent look conveyed many thoughts at once, none of which spoke well for his opinion of Harry's intelligence in that moment.

Harry flushed and poured himself some tea and sat back in his chair. He studied Snape as he watched him make a graceful ritual out of preparing his cup.

He looked terrible. Fifteen years in Azkaban had taken a toll on the man. He was gaunt to the point of skeletal thinness as he sat there in his tattered striped robes. It looked like he had lost several teeth. Harry closed his eyes as he wondered if it had been from lack of nutrition or violence. Both, he suspected. His nose had obviously been broken again, but left unset, and it whistled as he breathed through it. His shaven skull showed scars and some bruises that were fairly fresh.

Harry was shocked by how old he looked. He was used to catching up with people. Given his Muggle upbringing, it had taken a while, but eventually the fact that wizarding folk aged slower had lost its novelty. He was accustomed to the phenomenon of seeming to be the same age, physically, as people twenty years older than he was. But with Snape, that wasn't the case. He looked desiccated and ancient. Harry felt a fresh wave of fury and impotent frustration wash over him again as it had, periodically, since he had lost his last appeal ten years ago. To Harry, the man was a hero. However, with the exception of his wife and Hermione, almost no one else agreed.

"I failed you again, sir," Harry said quietly.

Snape flicked an irritated look at him for interrupting his first cup of tea in fifteen years.

"Potter, it would be best if you refrained from calling me 'sir'. I am no longer your teacher. Besides, it might call your character into question if someone were to take notice."

Harry shook his head emphatically.

"They all know how I feel about this. I spent too much gold and ate up too many political favors trying to get you released. It is no secret that I still respect you and feel a great miscarriage of justice has been done. Unfortunately, sir, that is probably why I failed when I tried to get your community service reassigned. I did manage to get them to reduce it to two years. After that, you will be able to get a new wand and go wherever you like to start over."

Snape shuddered and set his teacup down.

"Where?"

Harry ran his hands through his hair, making it stand straight up.

"I tried to get them to assign you to the Department of Mysteries. I figured there you would be away from the public and be allowed to serve out your sentence without scrutiny."

"Where, Potter?" Snape asked again.

Harry dropped his head.

"Hogwarts," he answered.

Harry had expected shock and anger would have been the man's reaction. The quiet resignation and open sadness on the face of the once proud man hurt more than anything else about their encounter so far.

"Minerva?" Snape asked quietly.

Harry shook his head slowly.

"She passed away five years ago, a nasty case of Dragon Pox left her weak and a bad heart took her in her sleep while she was on holiday with her sister. Aurora Sinistra is Headmistress now. The school has…changed a bit, but you will find you have allies."

Snape stared at him in silence and his face changed from sad to desolate. He was quiet for a long time before he looked down at his hands in his lap and quietly asked: "Do you think I could have another cup of tea, Mr. Potter?"

* * *

_Thirteen months later:_

The horde of students came stomping back into the castle from Hogsmeade, depositing mud and slush and chocolate wrappers all over the flagstone floor behind them. The castle's caretaker stood in the shadows, furiously clutching the handle of his mop. His glittering black eyes watched them all troop past with a resentment that had burned out the lining of his stomach twice in the year he had been there. Ronald Weasley came in, riding a tide of jovial laughter as he finished telling a knot of adoring students a ridiculously improbable tale of his days as a keeper for the Wigtown Wanderers. He laughed at his own humor and clapped a fifth year on the back. The caretaker's eyes tracked the chocolate wrapper that flew out of the flying instructor's hand. He watched it flutter down and join the others and stared at it as if he could set it aflame with his anger. He was still staring at it when a small hand reached down and picked it up. He watched as a familiar first year boy scooped up a few more, almost getting his hand trod upon in the process. The petit boy with the telltale frizzy, ginger hair stared after his father with a look of embarrassment before he dropped the wrappers into the rubbish bin. He scooted around the crowd with his head down, obviously trying to avoid notice and almost tripped over the caretaker hiding in the shadows. When he looked up and saw him his eyes widened in fright and he stepped backwards quickly.

"So sorry, sir!" the urchin blurted out quietly, before he turned and fled.

The caretaker watched the boy run away and felt curiously ashamed of himself.

"Ronald!" hissed a voice in the doorway. Professor Granger-Weasley stood in the fading sunlight with her hands planted on her hips. The caretaker's chin tilted down into his scarf until his face was buried up to his nose and tugged on his cap until it nearly covered his eyes as he tried to surreptitiously hide even more than he already was. He watched through his long fringe of hair as Weasley waved the students off toward their rooms and, when they all had left the hallway, he walked back to the entrance to join his wife.

"I've asked you not to speak to me like that in front of the students, Mione," he snapped at her. The man hiding in the shadows raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had never heard the couple exchange a cross word before.

"And I am tired of asking you not to _act_ like one of the students!" she snapped back. "I told you to make sure the students cleaned off their boots before entering the castle! Look at this mess they have made!" She stabbed a small finger at the floor.

"So what? It's a floor! Do you even hear yourself? You _told_ me? Since when do I take orders from you? You might have got further if you had tried _asking_ me. Ever hear the one about catching more things with honey instead of vinegar? Maybe if you weren't such a shrew, people might actually listen to you for once!"

"I'll be sure to remember that the next time I need flies," she hissed. She pointed at the floor again. "Is it just completely beyond your understanding that you might be creating more work for other people with your thoughtlessness?"

"It's just Snape," replied Ron. "Why should I spare him from the work he is supposed to do? He doesn't take over my classes does he? We all have our jobs here, Hermione. I think it's time you realized yours is just to teach potions, not run the school. No one appreciates your efforts, believe me. The students are always complaining to me about you, and I have to say that I agree with them. You really are turning into a bitch."

Hermione made a sound like an enraged mouse and stamped her foot on the floor. She whipped out her wand, and with a swirl and a swipe, she called up all of the mud and slush off the floor, and, with a quick flick, splattered it all over her husband's robes. The man hiding in the shadows smiled cruelly. Without another word she stomped up the stairs. The caretaker followed her with his eyes and spotted the head of one of the students just as it popped out of sight above her.

"Hey!" her husband shouted after her.

Instead of vanishing the mess, the furious man spelled it off and, with a flick of his wrist, slapped the mud and ice back down onto the floor. He walked over and kicked the rubbish bin onto the floor adding to the mess, before he too, stomped away up the stairs.

Snape pushed the bucket of hot soapy water out of the shadows. Bracing the mop handle against the Hufflepuff hourglass, he took up the broom and dustpan from his cart and began to clean up the mess. He glanced up the stairs that the angry couple had ascended with a bemused smirk on his face. His eyes glittered with merriment for a moment before becoming thoughtful as he contemplated this new insight into the woman's situation. Severus Snape didn't like it when Professor Hermione Granger-Weasley was unhappy.

* * *

All praise, love and thanks go to the astounding **Hebe GB**, for her unbelievable patience as a sounding board as well as cheerleading skills. (The things that woman can do with pom-poms.) Also to that beautiful, chittery-monkey **Dressagegrrrl**, for her amazing skill with a comma and the child-rearing tips. Both of you are my angels, and you both can make me snort hot tea out of my nose.

Reviews wanted, inquire within!


	2. What Polly Knows

**AN: Not Mine, No Money**

All praise to **Hebe GB** and **Dressagegrrrl** for enthusiasm and rah rah's, as well as Alpha, Beta and Omega skillz.

* * *

Snape finished up cleaning the glass on the trophy cabinets and dropped his rags and spray bottles into the utility basket. He stretched his back and heard several loud pops. The sound echoed in the emptiness. As he gathered together his equipment and started for the closet, he heard the sound of angry footsteps pounding down the stairs. He stepped into a shadow by the door to the trophy room and watched as Weasley passed by, muttering angrily to himself. Snape smirked as he remembered the altercation he had witnessed earlier. The veneer of domesticity they had always displayed was shattered now, and Snape reveled in the other man's seeming unhappiness. He slipped out of the room and down the stairs after him. Snape followed behind long enough to confirm he was headed to the kitchens again. Weasley often headed to the kitchens late at night, and now that Snape had witnessed for himself the state of their union, he wondered if Weasley's other nocturnal journeys had also been caused by the aftermath of an argument. He smirked cruelly as he deposited his things in a downstairs cleaning closet. This had, indeed, been a good day after all. It was time for a reward.

He ghosted down the hall, breathing through his mouth to stop the whistling of his nose and keeping to the shadows. It was past midnight and there were plenty of shadows. He reached the Potions lab and snuck inside silently. Making his way to the front of the room, he swept a glance around before silently reaching into the rubbish bin he had emptied during dinner and pulling out the latest edition of The Practical Potioneer. He slid the journal into his shirt and skulked away.

Down in the bowels of the castle where his cramped little rooms were, he sat down in his threadbare chair and propped his tired feet up on the three-legged ottoman. He was about to pull his purloined journal out of his shirt when Winky popped in and startled him. The little house elf's ears drooped when she realized what she had done.

"I was just seeing if the sir needs tea," she said.

Snape sighed.

"Tea would be lovely. Thank you, Winky."

Seeing the elf was still loitering, Snape brought his hand up and pinched his nose.

"Was there something else?" he asked, knowing there was.

"Winky's been a bad elf again sir!" she blurted out. "Winky did the sir's job for him again!"

"What did you do this time?" he asked in resignation.

"It was the poltergeist again sir. He made a chandelier be broken in the teachers' room, and Winky just happened to be there, and she just happened to accidentally fix it, and clean up the messes before the Headmistress came and sees it, sir. Winky is very sorry. Winky was going to punish herself, but sir always says for Winky to come to you for punishments from now on," the elf looked ridiculous, trying to be contrite and proud at the same time. Snape heaved a deep sigh.

"Winky, what have you been told about doing my job? The Headmistress has forbidden it. As punishment you will have no Butterbeer for two weeks. Do you hear me? Now run along and fetch me some tea." Snape watched the elf as her ears drooped just before she popped back out of his room.

Winky and he had been playing out this silly charade since he had returned just over a year ago. He had been pushing a cart full of armour back up some stairs and muttering dire curses upon the next ten generations of Poppletons. Jared Poppleton had thought it a lark to make the suit of armour go dancing down the stairs, but no one saw fit to put it back where it belonged. Snape had to cart the thing up three flights of stairs just as the dinner hour approached. With as weak as he was when he had first arrived, it had been a real struggle for him to shove the wheels on the cart up each step, and so he had been caught out in the open when all the students had started to empty out of their rooms to head for the Great Hall. Snape had started to panic. He had been back at the school for two weeks but had managed to keep a rather low profile up to this point. His few interactions with the students had been bad enough, and he watched, wide-eyed as the entire student body seemed to be descending on him all at once. He considered tossing himself over the rail, but since he was only a short way up the first flight, he wasn't high enough up for it to be fatal, only more humiliating. Just as the students were starting to stop and point, Winky had showed up out of nowhere and grabbed the cart and Snape and popped them both up to the third floor. They landed right where the armour was supposed to be. Snape had been so relieved that he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, gulping in large quantities of air. The sound of clanging metal startled a flinch out of him and he turned to see the suit of armour settle itself back into its niche.

"Thank you, Winky," he had said, grateful that he wouldn't have to pull the armour out piece by piece and reconstruct it. The elf had been delighted that he had remembered her - as if he could have forgotten her - and had launched into an effusive soliloquy on how glad she was that he was back. After two solid weeks of being treated as a pariah, Snape had been deeply touched. In Azkaban his interactions with the guards had been seldom, and they had been characterized by cruelty. Seeing the smiling, carefree faces of the students or staff freeze up and fall into fear, hate, or suspicion when they turned towards him had taken its toll on the man. Fifteen years of mostly solitude broken only by pain, humiliation, and cruelty left him pitifully grateful for the kindness of the elf.

Later, when word of the happening had gotten around, Snape had received an unexpected visit and was given a dressing-down by the Headmistress. Professor Sinistra and Snape had always been indifferent to each other in the past, but it was clear early on that her opinion of him, already not the best, had taken a permanent blow when he had killed Dumbledore. The fact that Dumbledore's portrait, as well as McGonagall's, could frequently be found walking through frames to keep pace and company with the man mopping the floors was a source of irrational irritation to Sinistra. She had made it clear that he was not to expect help from anyone in carrying out his duties, and that Winky had been punished for her interference. He had been reminded repeatedly that the previous caretaker, god rest his soul, had been a squib, and therefore it was obvious that the job could be done without magic. She had implied that any shirking of his duties would be noted in her weekly report to the Ministry, and infractions could lengthen the time of his service. He had refrained from pointing out just how often each member of the staff had helped Argus in just those kinds of situations and struggled to maintain his neutral expression while he assured her it would never happen again.

Snape smirked as he looked back at the last year and how many projects he had been spared because of the elf's repeated disregard of her standing order not to interfere. The two of them had settled back into an old routine. Winky had repeatedly made life hell for the Carrows when Snape had been Headmaster, and Snape had repeatedly punished the elf by disallowing the alcoholic elf from indulging in her only vice. Winky continued to break the rules and Snape continued to punish her by helping her stay sober. They made a ridiculous pair.

A tea tray popped onto the table, along with an assortment of chocolate biscuits. Snape poured himself a cup and fixed it just the way he liked, and then, as was his habit, he toasted the portrait of Argus Filch that he had clipped out of an old school yearbook and framed. The Filch in the photo smiled deferentially and blushed. Snape set his cup down and pulled the journal out of his shirt and settled back to read.

* * *

It was almost three in the morning when Snape set his quill down and capped his inkpot. He had thoroughly enjoyed the article on the differences between drying Hooded Vanilla beans and asphyxiating them. Not because the article was any good; asphyxiating a plant by digging it up and immediately placing it in a vacuum had merit in certain cases, but not in the case of vanilla beans. The calming effect the beans had was neither enhanced nor diminished by the process. No, what he had enjoyed were Granger's comments written in the margin. "Useless and needlessly cruel," had been one of them. Snape smirked at that. Only Granger would think beans would know the difference.

He stood up and walked over to his chest, some student's discard that he had dragged back here and salvaged, and lifted up the lid and placed the journal on top of the stack. Heading into the tiny bathroom he began his nightly ablutions before going to bed. His teeth were brushed and his soiled clothes were tossed into a small box in the corner before he pulled the warm, flannel nightshirt over his head. He rolled on a clean pair of knitted socks in defense against the constant chill. He inspected his reflection in the bit of broken mirror he has glued to the wall over the sink. He was still not much to look at, but he was certainly a far cry better than this time last year.

As usual his thoughts, as he headed across the room and set his candle by his bed, were about Granger. He always referred to her as Granger, even in his head; he refused to acknowledge her Weasley-ness. She had asked him to call her Hermione on several occasions, but that seemed like too much of a liberty. She usually called him Mr. Snape but, once or twice, she had called him Severus, and he had found himself rather emotional each time, not that he let it show. She was the only one to address him so that wasn't made of paint, and hearing his own name was always a novelty.

As he rolled over and pulled up the warm, thick, Polly the Pigmy Puff blanket left behind by a graduating student, Snape thought back to just how much more he had now than a year ago. As he blew out the candle his thoughts roamed, as ever, to how much more he wanted.

* * *

_Thirteen months earlier:_

The return of Severus Snape to Hogwarts in disgrace had been as public as it could have been considering it was towards the end of the winter break and the school had few people in it. Flitwick was there, studiously avoiding eye contact, as was Sprout. Vector was staring him down as if he were a problem to be solved, and Headmistress Sinistra looked at him as if he was something she needed to scrape off of her shoe. Hagrid and Trelawney had both left the school over the passing years. The other teachers were unfamiliar to him, but it was obvious that the same could not be said in return. The press had shown up, and all of the teachers, with the exception of the Weasleys, who were away for the break, had been interviewed and photos had been taken of their shocked reactions at seeing the former headmaster returned to the school as a convict to replace the recently deceased Argus Filch. They made him stand on the cold steps in the bitter chill while they made a production of resetting the wards to keep him from escaping before allowing him to enter the school. Snape, in a tattered prison robe, Potter's too short cloak, and his thin, canvas shoes, clothed himself in what little dignity he could muster and tried not to grind his teeth, knowing that the wards needed to be changed in the Headmaster's office and so this was, indeed, empty show. The loud sniffing and not-too-quiet side comments had died down as they all trooped inside only to be greeted by Albus, Minerva, and Phineas Nigellus Black. They had crowded into the painting of the card-playing wizards in the entryway. They had made no bones about how pleased they were to see him. Black even went so far as to continually address him as Headmaster Snape and launched into a scathing indictment of the behavior of the school staff in participating in what he called the most shameful act in Hogwarts' history. For his efforts, he was banished from the Headmistress' office. Snape had later learned that Granger had taken custody of his portrait and he held place of honor in her private office.

His reception committee had lost their spark after that. Snape had held himself with too much poise, and there was a distinct lack of rotten tomatoes or jeering crowds, so the press packed up quickly.

Headmistress Sinistra had not been pleased at all.

Snape had been given a list of his duties, which he took with a deferential nod and settled down in his tiny cell of a room; Filch's more spacious rooms had been given over to storage. The room was so small that he risked head trauma if he sneezed. There was a narrow bed with sheets and a blanket but no pillow, a rickety table and a wooden stool. A single shelf hung by the door and an unlit candle and a box of matches rested on it. An even tinier room off the side contained a sink and toilet and a single towel. Compared to Azkaban, even without the Dementors, it was pure luxury. He had fallen onto the small bed and rolled the thin blanket into a pillow and curled up under Potter's cloak with his shoes still on.

The next day, after his picture had been splashed across the pages of The Daily Prophet, the Weasleys cut short their holiday. Answering a knock on his door, Snape had opened it to find the small Weasley family: mother, father and their two frizzy, ginger children, standing out in the hallway. Granger had dragged her whole family down to his rooms to welcome him and ask if there was anything they could do to help him get settled. It had been an awkward moment for all involved. Snape had wanted to slam the door in their faces and the elder Weasel and his spawn looked like they would have been happy if he had done so. Granger had gasped in shock at his appearance, and then stumbled through her welcome before her words died off, and her face infused with the same guilt and pity that had been on Potter's. He had clenched his jaw and told her 'no, thank you' in a tight voice, and she had the good grace to look ashamed. They had left him quickly after that, but not before he had seen an odd look in her Gryffindor eye. Snape had closed the door with resignation, fearing he was about to become an ongoing project for the woman. He didn't relish falling into the same category as house elves.

The first days of his new life were a blur of gut-churning shame he refused to show. The occasional students whose paths he crossed had fled with squeals of fright and screams of 'murderer!' His first encounter with Sprout had made him hide in an unused classroom in the dungeon and break down weeping from the look of disgust in her eyes. Sinistra had him running from the dungeon to the top of the towers with increasingly flimsy errands just to teach him who was boss. A sudden confrontation with Weasley late one night in the hallway leading to the kitchens resulted in a silent stand off. Snape stared at the fool who had dared to save him and condemned him to hell while Ron stared at the man who had turned into an albatross tied around his neck. Ron mumbled something unintelligible and stomped past him with his ears flaming red. Snape stared after him, only figuring out in that moment that Weasley was less than pleased to have saved him.

Snape's worst moment, in those early days, was when Sinistra had given him an order to wait in the owlery for an important message she was expecting and to bring it to her as soon as it arrived. It arrived during dinner. Silence descended on the hall as he made his way past the students and up to the head table to hand her the note. It seemed to take years to reach the head table, but he refused to look down. Refused to look ashamed. His eyes cut from teacher to teacher daring them to look him in the eye. Only Granger had. She met his eyes and he was startled to see, not the pity or guilt from before, but pride. He sneered at her in reflex. Sinistra took the letter from him and he turned to leave. She waited until he had made it almost halfway before her voice rang out.

"Stop, Snape! I want you to wait and mail off my immediate reply." She proceeded to produce a quill and parchment, and he stood in front of the head table in his prisoner's robe with the too short sleeve clearly showing both his faded Dark Mark and the iron ring that bound his magic, enduring the murmuring and snickering of the students behind him while she composed her reply. His eyes cut back to Granger to see her face was red with fury as her husband hissed into her ear, displeased with her reaction. She looked up from her plate and locked eyes with him again, and Snape merely raised an eyebrow in response. The Headmistress made a grand show of ordering him back to the owlery, and Snape had taken up the letter and turned and strode back out of the hall. As soon as the doors had closed behind him the room had erupted in noise and mocking laughter that burned in his belly and clawed its way up his throat.

He swallowed it all. There was nothing else to do.

Late at night, curled under Potter's cloak, he dreamed of freedom. He needed to guard his behavior. One bad report to the Ministry could send him back to Azkaban and, despite what the Warden predicted, Snape would never go back there again. Not unless they sent his dead body there. He only had to endure two more years, and he would be free. Free to do what, he did not know. His days of potion making seemed over. Frostbite had compromised his hands as well as his feet, and he had no idea if they could be healed. He feared too much time had passed for him to reclaim the fine motor skills he had lost.

Weeks went by while he endured the unendurable. At first his only ally was the one house elf, but as he had predicted, Granger signed up as another soon after that.

He had been correct in his assumptions of her Gryffindor tendencies to take up causes, but was off by a good bit in his suppositions as to what form it would take. One morning, just a few days after the incident in the Great Hall, he found his canvas shoes were gone. He had looked around his tiny room, there weren't many places they could have been, and then with a sigh he had slouched into his bathroom. When he came out, his shoes had reappeared and brought company. There, on the floor near the end of his bed, he found his canvas shoes; next to them was a sturdy pair of dragon hide boots and four pairs of thick socks. He had called Winky and asked where they had come from and was told they were a gift from the Potions mistress. He'd been livid. Violating his privacy in order to make him gag on her pity was, to him, tantamount to spitting in his face like some of the seventh years. Of course his door was still locked, but that meant nothing. Without a wand he had no way of keeping people out of his room. He had absolutely refused to wear them and only glared at her when they chanced to pass in the hallways. However, he couldn't bring himself to throw them out either, they were brand new, and that seemed like a waste. He threw them into a corner and ignored them. He wore the socks when he slept in an effort to try and save his toes from more harm.

After that rather clumsy attempt, she became both more blatant and more subtle. He had been down in the kitchens eating with the elves when he received a summons by owl to come to the potions lab after dinner. Crumpling the note in his fist, he had stomped to the lab in anger. Professor Granger was decanting a potion into various vials.

"Ah, Mr. Snape, good evening," she said in a crisp voice. "I am so very sorry to ask this of you, but I must take these vials up to Poppy straight away and I need this cauldron cleaned up. Unfortunately I don't seem to have any miscreant students available that I can get to help. Would you please scrub this cauldron out? The residue will solidify and ruin it if it doesn't get done soon." She had not bothered to make eye contact, and her body language was that of someone absorbed in their task. Her bossy manner surprised him. He had assumed that her bleeding heart would have lasted a bit longer, and he would have had to put up with an emotional display of heartfelt support and embarrassing pity. He felt oddly cheated that he missed his chance to put her in her place. He didn't quite know what to do with her putting him in his.

"As you wish, Professor," he had grumbled. She decanted the last vial and stoppered it, then grabbed up the box of potions and walked swiftly past him with only a cursory nod of thanks as she rushed out the door. Snape had waited until she was gone before he walked cautiously over to the lab table and took a deep breath through his whistling nose. He catalogued the smells and frowned in puzzlement. He looked into the cauldron, and his brows rose in surprise. If the Potions mistress always left this much waste, then the departmental budget must be a disaster. He picked up a stirring rod and swirled it through the potion, lifting it out and watching the viscosity as it dripped back into the mixture. His eyes scanned the ingredients on the table and her notes, and then he growled. Unless he was completely off his game, the cauldron was half filled with left-over Partum Dentibus potion. Snape ran his tongue around his mouth, poking at the many places where he was missing teeth. He scowled at the empty doorway and then grabbed up a box of clean, empty vials and began ladling the potion up quickly. His movements were clumsy, by his standards, both from lack of practice and from nerves. He finished sealing the vials and, not having any pockets, he hauled up his robe and shoved them into the waistband of his underwear before snatching up the cauldron and rushing over to the sink.

His mind reeled from the mixture of memories and déjà vu sensations that the act of cleaning a cauldron produced. He looked around the room as he worked, and his mind calculated at least fourteen changes to the room since it had been his. That was not a lot to his mind, considering it had been nearly seventeen years since he had called this lab his own.

He finished scrubbing the equipment and the countertop, heading to the potions closet to put away ingredients. It was all rather therapeutic. He was still in there when Professor Granger returned. She obviously hadn't expected him to still be there, for when he walked out of the closet, she yelped and jumped into the air. Her look of surprise was immediately replaced by a guilty look that any old teacher would recognize and that was when the penny dropped. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Am I to assume a student lost some teeth in an unforeseen incident today?"

Even as physically changed as he was, with his emaciated frame accentuated by the dark stubble on his head and his ragged, convict robes, Granger reacted as if seventeen years had never passed. She dropped her head towards the floor.

"Yes, sir," she replied. He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head at her honorific.

"Which student?"

"Mr. Poppleton had an unfortunate run in with a bludger. A student hit him in the mouth during practice today." She had recovered herself somewhat and made an attempt to change the subject. "I only expected you to clean the cauldron, I didn't intend for you to clean up the whole lab."

Snape waved a hand.

"It was…meditative," he said before coming back to the main point again. "Do you always make a double batch of potion? How is it that the school can afford to feed anyone with the amount you waste?" He cut her a calculating look while her face was pointed at the floor again. "That was a very expensive potion I just poured down the drain." As expected her head snapped back up and her eyes grew wide while her mouth dropped open.

She was smart enough not to say anything incriminating, but it was far too late. She really was the ultimate Gryffindor, he thought as his anger faded to a sort of jaded amusement.

"Which student do I have to thank, Professor?" he asked with a smirk.

She flushed and twisted her hands together.

"It was my daughter, Rose," she answered.

"And why would she hit a bludger hard enough to maim a student during a practice session?" he asked, taking a few steps closer.

Granger's face scrunched up and her eyes lit up with an amused resignation.

"Because I told her to?" she offered. "The brat needed to be taken down a peg, and anyway, he broke Rose's arm back in September."

Snape looked down his nose at the diminutive teacher fidgeting under his stare. He bent slightly until his nose was in her face, whistling angrily.

"I am not a house elf, Granger. I cannot be freed by you leaving clothes in the hallway for me to stumble across. I have two years left until I am free and can be shut of this place forever. Maiming students in a half-witted attempt to rescue me will only cause me problems, and maybe even get me thrown back into Azkaban. I do not need your _pity_." He straightened back up, surreptitiously pressing his wrist against a vial that had slipped. His mouth quirked into a half smile as he backed away from her. "I will say, however, that your ham-fisted attempt at Slytherin tactics has been amusing. I do thank you for the entertainment."

She smiled broadly at him, and he stumbled slightly.

"I _am_ really bad at this, aren't I?" she laughed, and it rang in his ears.

"Abominable," he replied. His smirk slid off his face. "I will ask you to stay out of my rooms in the future," he said, suddenly serious.

"Oh, I didn't enter your rooms! I sent a house elf," she said. "I would never be so disrespectful of your privacy!"

"Indeed," he replied, before turning and stalking out the door.

"So I'll just leave the clothes somewhere else then, shall I?" she called after him. He gave her an exasperated look over his shoulder.

Snape had fled back to his room. He hauled up his robes and pulled the vials out of his waistband, scowling at his rather prominent erection. He drank one of the potions down immediately, and hid the rest in the boots. Kicking off his shoes, he rolled on a pair of socks, and then pulled off his pants and scrubbed them in the sink with the blend of soaps he had pilfered from the prefects' bath. Hanging his underwear over a rung of the stool to dry, he curled up under the cloak with a fistful of toilet tissue before blowing out his candle.

As he laid there in the dark, he thought about how he needed to be on his guard for a new reason. A man who hadn't had a woman in fifteen years should stay far away from married ones with pretty amber eyes, a laugh that sounded like wind chimes, and smelled like citrus and almonds. The fact that she was the wife of his nemesis and one of the former banes of his existence meant nothing to his insistent manhood. He reached down and pulled up his robe and grasped himself, his hips bucking into his hand already. The fresh, clean smell of a woman who looked at him and smiled had a dizzying effect, and it took no time at all for him to release into the tissue with no more sound than the whistling of his nose. Azkaban teaches silence. Snape chased after his orgasm, barely tossing the tissue on the floor before his overwhelmed mind spiraled off to sleep.

He woke up the next morning with a firm resolve to avoid the woman for his own sanity's sake. That didn't last very long. The next week he was called to the lab as she was decanting a large quantity of nutritional replenisher.

"Good evening, Mr. Snape. Can you please bring these potions to Madam Pomfrey for me? She expressly asked for three dozen vials of nutrient replenisher but I must oversee a detention and she needs them right away." She handed him the box of vials, and he nodded quietly and backed out without saying a word. In fact, he couldn't have said anything since he was holding his breath.

Snape took one look at the nearly four dozen vials of nutrient replenisher and turned back towards his own room. Madam Pomfrey took possession of exactly three dozen vials, as ordered, with a disdainful sniff, before shutting the infirmary doors in his face.

And so another charade was started. Besides his ludicrous interactions with the house elf, he and Granger had maintained a façade of polite aloofness while she slowly rescued him in spite of his wishes. She called him to help her clean her lab whenever she needed to rush up to the hospital wing with muscle restoratives or nerve regenerators and he siphoned off her excess and stole it. They both strictly kept to the new rules of the game. They never made small talk; her attempts were always met with haughty disdain. They never acknowledged the fact that his teeth were growing back, as was his hair, nor the fact that he had more energy and stamina and was slowly filling out his frame. They never discussed the fact that there was now a running inventory of supplies posted in a spiky script on the walls of both the student Potion's closet and her own stores.

Snape suffered in silence as he cut twelve teeth and discreetly wrung his hands in agony as the nerves in his fingers regenerated until she spotted him hobbling on his pained feet. Vials of pain potion started to appear on the shelves and he gulped them down greedily. He spoke so seldom that he'd startled himself the first time he had heard his restored voice.

He certainly never thanked her for the sturdy denim trousers and warm shirts and badly knitted jumpers, always black, that he periodically fished out of an otherwise clean rubbish bin in her lab. When he pulled out two packages of Muggle pants, boxers and briefs, he simply tossed the briefs back into the bin. The next week another package of boxers appeared. He was particularly fond of the dark tweed cap that kept his head warm while his hair grew back. The brim slouched nicely over his eyes.

None of the other staff ever commented on his changed appearance, and even Sinistra had done little more than scowl when she had first seen him stomp by in his dragonhide boots. Weasley had flushed an unbecoming shade of red upon seeing Snape wearing a jumper that he had watched his wife knit, but otherwise made no comment. He'd just turned and stormed off in another direction, much to Snape's pleasure. He wore the sweaters and misshapen scarf a lot after that.

Granger usually avoided speaking at all, in deference to his preferences, but he found he rather enjoyed her occasional snide commentary on the student body when she'd had a belly full of them and needed to vent. She could be rather witty.

No one else bothered to speak to him at all. Students melted away when they saw him…not that he didn't do his best to avoid them as well as he could. To the staff, he was invisible, unless something was broken beyond magical repair and needed to be replaced. Compared to his fifteen years in Azkaban, Hogwarts was paradise, and so he was reluctant to acknowledge how unhappy he was. He knew that somewhere, fate had decreed the Severus Snape was to be unhappy. What was unusual was how desperately lonely he was. He had always been alone, and so was unprepared for this particular feeling to become burdensome. Even though his interactions with Granger were limited to once or twice a week, they never failed to be the highlight of his days. As the days turned into weeks, she became a minor obsession. As weeks became months, she became an all-consuming one.

In the Autumn, when the new term started, the small family returned after a summer break spent at the Burrow. After a solid six weeks of establishing routine existence without her constantly in his thoughts, Snape had prided himself on finally getting a grip and resolved to remain aloof and disciplined in the future. He had watched them return to the castle with little more interest than he had felt when he saw Sprout return. However, when she had stopped him in the hall and expressed her happiness at seeing him again, when she had looked him in the eye and smiled, while calling him Severus, his resolve had done a bunk and his obsession sprang full-blown back to life.

He watched her constantly. He knew her schedule, her work habits, even her wardrobe. He knew she called her daughter Whiz-bang whenever the fifth year student came barreling around a corner. He saw her silent worry as she watched her quiet, bookish son accustom himself to his new status as student. He was always most on point when he saw her with her husband. The familiar touches, as she brushed crumbs off of his robes or he paused to let her go through a door first with a hand on the small of her back, both burned and soothed. Snape's jealousy was tempered by his fatalistic belief that the Weasleys were meant to be together. As long as she stared after that dunderhead with that longing expression on her face then Snape was safe.

He was self-aware enough to realize why he had become so attached to Granger. First of all she was female; Snape had gone far too long without physical companionship not to be attracted to a nice pair of tits and, even bound up under her conservative robes, they were obviously magnificent. There were many females in the castle, but only one who didn't physically shudder when he was near; that was a plus. Second of all, she possessed many of the characteristics he had always preferred in a companion. She had matured into a rather comely woman, and she was highly intelligent, but beyond that, she had a calm, nurturing quality that drew him in like a siren's call. And she was bossy. Snape had always had a weakness for bossy women. The third reason was the one that irritated Snape the most: she was unobtainable. He feared that his early days of unrequited love for Lily had imprinted him with a disturbing fetish. It's not like he had never had other women, but his new obsession with Granger paralleled his abiding regard for Lily like no other had. The combination of an intelligent, petit, motherly, bossy woman, with a pretty face and tits that made his fingers twitch was nearly too much for the poor man. Add to that the fact that she was _forbidden_, and it made an almost unholy mixture. He spent his mornings cataloguing her flaws, his afternoons and evenings scowling and aloof, and his nights biting down hard on his make-shift pillow. Before he fell asleep each night he vowed to put the witch out if his mind once and for all. He had enough self-preservation still to know only disaster awaited down that path.

When his two years were up, he would go dig up the fortune he had buried twenty years before, and spend half of it on whores until his genitalia coughed and fainted at the site of a naked female. Then he would go find himself a woman in some foreign land where they never heard of Voldemort. Preferably somewhere no one had ever heard of Great Britain either. Until that moment, he would spend his days stomping through the castle, Occlumency shields firmly in place, while wielding a toilet plunger, wondering if she screamed loudly or moaned deeply.

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Reviews are my only reward!


	3. What the Bludger Does

**AN**: Many thanks go to **Hebe GB** for putting up with my whinging, whilst this chapter was beaten into submission, and also to **Dressagegrrrl** for supplying her own cudgel and helping me pound it into shape. Another thank you to **Whitehound** for her input-- I do hope this is acceptable, woman, it's the best I could do without imploding the other ten chapters already written!

**Not Mine, No Money**

* * *

Ginny Potter brushed her hair thoroughly before she came over and sank into the bed next to her husband who was reading the letter that had just arrived by owl. She slid over and wrapped an arm around his chest, curling the other under his pillow.

"What do the kids have to say?" she asked.

"James said Lily might need new shoes when you come to the school tomorrow."

"Yeah, I bought her two new pairs this week. I figured they didn't have much longer when I looked at them during the Christmas hols," she said before a huge yawn gripped her.

"He also says he saw Ron and Hermione arguing in the Entrance Hall of the school tonight." Harry sighed and handed the letter to his wife before scooping her into his arms. "Things are getting worse between those two if they've started arguing in public."

Ginny read the letter quickly, and then leaned across her husband to place it on his bedside table.

"Harry, you know there's nothing we can do if they don't ask us, and they never will. Ron's too much of a prat, and Hermione is too ashamed. It's like watching someone die in slow agony with those two."

He sighed and gave his wife a squeeze.

"I don't understand why it all went wrong with them. They always seemed to be perfect for each other."

Ginny shook her head.

"No, they just always sounded like a perfect _idea_. Even they thought so. Hermione wanted to be a part of the family, and we all wanted her to be a part of the family. But I don't think anyone, even Hermione, really looked to see that Ron wasn't the way to go. Opposites can attract, sure, but there has to be more than 'why not?' to make it work."

"I guess you're right."

"I _am_ right. When am I ever not right?" she said playfully.

"True," he admitted, turning to settle down next to his wife. "So is everything on for your little covert mission tomorrow?"

"Yup."

"What's next after this?"

"I'm not sure," Ginny answered sleepily. "I think she said this was the last big thing. I think she's done an amazing job so far."

"I'll say. Each time I visit the school I can't get over the change. She's a genius with those targeted healing potions she developed. He looks better than he did when he was teaching. It's almost hard to remember the way he looked when they dragged him into my office that day." He shuddered, and Ginny snuggled closer. "Okay, maybe not. He looked like death that day. I'll never forget that."

"Well," his wife replied while rubbing her cheek against his chest. "The least we could do was restore his health. He has less than a year left, and then he'll be free. Tomorrow is the last big thing; the rest isn't really important."

"Well, just be careful tomorrow. I still think it's a crap idea."

"I will."

* * *

Hermione stood in the middle of her sitting room and stared at the wall, trying to get control of her anger. She tried for a few deep, cleansing breaths, but only managed to make herself lightheaded. As if on cue, her husband stomped into the apartment behind her, ruining what slight bit of calm she had achieved.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Ron, slamming the portrait door to their private quarters closed.

She took one last breath and turned to face the man who had become the bane of her existence. He stood there, red-faced, hands planted on hips, veins bulging on his forehead, waiting for an explanation for her actions down in the hallway that she couldn't provide. She really didn't know what had gotten into her.

"Since when do you take your bitchy mood out on me in public, Mione? I thought appearances were your pet peeve! Tell me where the logic is in your telling me I'm acting like a child, and then throwing mud at me?"

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, realising it was still wet from the snowfall.

"I admit I was out of line. But I do suspect it might have had something to do with you calling me a bitch," she said calmly.

"Well, what would you call it? You've been acting like one for damned near the last year!"

"Really? Only the last year? Not the last five? That's what you said the last time we had this out."

Ron scrubbed at his own damp hair with both his hands and walked over and sat on the couch.

"Mione, you can't change what's been going on at the school. You can't keep trying to make Sinistra 'see the light'. If you would just accept things the way they are--"

"Have you lost your mind? _Accept things_? Accept the fact that she has spent the last five years denigrating Dumbledore's reputation, and Minerva's as well, just to cover up her own incompetence?"

"She's not incompetent!"

"She's completely incompetent! She's destroying the reputation of the school, turning us into a joke! If you didn't have your head so far up her arse you would see it!"

"Don't you dare!"

"Somebody has to dare! And I am sick of it! You run around basking in her praise and enjoying a second childhood acting like one of the blokes with the students, to the point of embarrassment! And you're inept at the easiest job in the school! Every single end of term, for almost five sodding years, you bring me your grade book and ask me to fix it so that Sinistra doesn't catch on that you've not marked down a single grade for the entire term. It's really quite simple, Ron. You're only teaching them to fly. They either pass the lesson or fail the lesson. You mark it in the bloody book and call it a day! But even that is too much for you!"

Ron launched himself off the couch and stabbed a finger at her chest.

"This isn't about me! It's about you! It's about you not being able to fit in here for the last few years!"

She pushed his finger away.

"It is about you when you're part of the damned problem! You refuse to speak out against what is plainly wrong!"

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I agree with them? Why is it you never stopped to think that perhaps Dumbledore _was_ a power-mad lunatic, sending children into battle when he could have done more himself!"

Hermione paled.

"That's not the way it happened. You know that. You were there!"

"Yeah? And I was one of the bloody _children_, wasn't I? Where exactly was I supposed to get a good perspective of the situation from?"

Hermione backed away from him, shock and loathing on her face.

"Where the hell have you disappeared to, Ronald Weasley? Just because you're the teacher's pet? Is that really all it takes to have you turn your back on the truth? Sinistra doesn't really care about you, Ron," she said in a softer, sadder voice. "She just uses you for your connections. The day you stop bringing in famous athletes to all her stupid little 'fund-raisers', is the day she has no use for you anymore."

Ron looked at her with disgust.

"You just can't accept that I was the one that turned out to be something, can you? Even after all these years, it still galls you that you're just a frumpy mouse of a teacher, and _I'm_ famous!"

Hermione turned several colours.

"Being a teacher is important, Ron! It's what I always wanted to be! At least until that bitch took over and turned my school into a den of ineptitude and turned everyone against the people I loved and cared for! As for you being famous, you were a great player, Ron, an amazingly gifted athlete. But the Wigtown Wanderers? Seriously?" She took a deep breath, realizing she had crossed a line. "Look, I'm sorry you were injured, and I'm sorry your career was over before you were ready, but you could have gone into management! You could have stayed in Quidditch! If being a teacher is such a bloody disgrace, why did you come here? Why did you have to show up and ruin everything?"

Ron clenched his fists.

"I thought, for some reason, that perhaps it would be nice to actually live with my wife and family for more than a few months out of the year," he said in a low voice. "I thought, mistakenly, that the wife I loved would appreciate having her husband around. I thought it would be nice to spend time with my children before I became a grandparent."

"Oh, yes, the little, frumpy, mouse of a wife of whom you were always embarrassed whenever we attended one of your sports functions. The one you loved so much you could never help making small, painful comments, to explain why I was never as pretty as the other empty-headed wives. Don't play that card with me, Ron. You might have come here for the children. I will give you that, but you sure as hell didn't do it for me."

He heaved a sigh and said in a more placating voice: "Look, I'm sorry you were intimidated by the other women. You had to know I loved you in spite of the fact that you were different. I'm sorry if their opinion of you hurt you."

"I don't care for their dunderheaded opinions, you daft pillock!"

Ron threw his hands up.

"See, there you go. Another thing I'm beginning to despise about you! You even talk like him now! Really, Mi, this hero-worship of yours is getting out of hand. It's embarrassing and shameful, and it's got to stop!"

"What the hell are you talking about now?"

"Snape!" he yelled back.

"Hero-worship?" she said incredulously.

"Well, it's obvious, ain't it? Ever since that creepy bastard showed up, you have made a fool of yourself over him! You've always gone on and on about how noble he was, how misunderstood. Why else would you have decided to be a teacher? And you just _had_ to pick Potions? You could have stayed home with the kids, like a normal wife. What the hell would have happened to me and my brothers and sister if my mum had decided to put a career first? Do you have any idea how upsetting that was? "

"Oh, here we go again! For the last time, Ronald, going back to school to finish my NEWTs was your _mother's_ idea! Taking up a career was your _mother's_ idea! And before you bring it up, one more bloody time, hyphenating my name was your _father's_ idea! He seemed to think it would bring the family _honour_!

"As for _Mr. _Snape, one of the things that made me love you to begin with was your selfless act of saving him," she snapped. Her face fell and she looked at him sadly. "It made you even more of a hero to me. I will never understand why you turned on him so quickly. I just wish I had seen this side of you clearer that night. I never would have married you had I known just how callous you can be towards another human being."

She turned her back on him and walked away, towards their bedroom.

"Don't you walk away from me! We're not done with this yet!"

She paused in the doorway.

"No, we aren't. But we are done for tonight."

She closed the door and locked it. She flicked her wand, casting a silencing charm on the bedroom door to stop the sound of Ron's pounding. After changing out of her clothes and slipping into a nightshirt, she primly set her wand on the table next to her side of the bed and climbed in. After adjusting her pillows with a gentle thump, and picking up the book on advanced rhinoplasty spells, she laid back, opened to the proper page, and burst into tears.

It seemed that crying was becoming a nightly ritual. She usually cried softly, once Ron had fallen asleep. It was rather nice to have the entire bed to herself.

Once again she tried to figure out why everything had gone so pear-shaped. She had really thought long and hard before marrying Ron. She had carefully weighed the pros and cons and honestly thought that she had made a wise choice. After all, he was her best friend. He understood her. Sure, he had bailed on her and Harry in the woods that time, but that had been under the influence of the Horcrux and his actions after that had been awe-inspiring. It was true that he hadn't made her heart pound like they wrote about in romance novels, nor did he ever make her toes curl in bed, but he was comfortable and comforting and that was just the thing she had needed after the madness that was her school years. She had added up all his good points and seen that there were more of them than bad points and decided that marrying him was a sound idea. What idiocy.

What she actually ended up with, once life had slowed down long enough to make an accurate assessment, was a far cry from her heroic best friend. Sure, he had been handsome, warm and caring, but he had slowly become lazy, arrogant, pigheaded, and could take selfishness to new levels. He was smart, yet distained intellectual ability as something to be suspicious of. As if the act of looking at both sides of an issue and trying to find a compromise was an act of sedition. Indeed, the word 'compromise' was nearly a pejorative.

Take Snape, for instance: Explaining to him how complex and individual Snape's situation had been, only served to make Ron's point. People were either good or bad. There was no room in his mind for shades of gray. Ron had saved him based on Harry's word that he was a hero. When he saw that the majority of people disagreed, Ron had regretted his action. Simple as that.

Really, it started almost as soon as he had brought him into the hall. Hermione had been almost overwhelmed by her feelings at seeing that her professor had survived, after all. She had thought she had seen him die and her sudden, sharp grief had been pushed aside in the subsequent chaos. It was such an awful way to die. When Harry had revealed Snape's motivations, she had struggled under the suffocating feeling of tremendous loss, there had been so much loss that day, but Snape's ignominious end had struck her especially hard. Seeing Ron enter the Hall with the man in tow, she had felt an incredible gratitude at his actions and had felt compelled to help. She had been so caught up in trying to save the man that she hadn't been aware of Ron's shift in attitude until he had tried to physically pull her away from the unconscious man. But it was obvious that Pomfrey was less than enthusiastic in her efforts, and despite Ron's ministrations, Snape had still been in a bad way. She had always regretted snapping at him to go away while she worked on their teacher, but it should have been obvious that she couldn't stop to soothe his ego at that moment. She had always wondered if his subsequent resentment had been cemented by her actions. She had tried hard to make up for if afterwards, tried to explain, but he had already turned to stone on the subject. Hermione had let his arguments go at the time. There had been so much pain and confusion that she was loathe to create discord. Years later, after countless similar arguments, she couldn't accept the idea of a future tied to someone so intentionally obtuse.

She didn't really hate him, she just couldn't stand to be physically near him anymore. What had started out as small irritations that she assumed all married couples had to work through, had slowly built up over the years, until, while not being active hatred, it had become a fierce aversion. Everything would be so much easier if he would just disappear.

Divorce wasn't an option. It was seriously frowned upon in wizarding society. If they were to split up, the impact it would have on her children would be devastating. Add to that, both of them worked at the school their children attended. The emotional damage would be twice as bad and neither she, nor Ron, wanted to do that to them.

Along with the issue of the children, there was the issue of employment itself. Hermione had truly loved her job when she had first taken over the Potions position. Minerva had become so much more than her employer and mentor, she had become another mother to the girl. Hermione had created a nice routine for her and the children at Hogwarts, and the staff had been her family, although her friendly relationship with Flitwick had cooled early on in her teaching career. Filius had been one of her favourite teachers when she had been a student and had been very warm and welcoming when she had come back to the school as a member of staff He had even taught her some rather advanced charms that had been most helpful in her potions work, but she found she simply couldn't tolerate his vocal opinions on Snape any longer and any last good opinion she'd had died out when he had taken her to task for her efforts to get the man a new trial.

Her loss of friendship with the diminutive professor had been more than compensated for with her fast friendship with Neville and Hagrid.

Minerva's sudden death had been the turning point. Everything had slowly turned ash-coloured after that.

Sinistra had taken over, and one by one her friends had left. Hagrid had moved to France to marry, taking Grawp with him, and Neville had gone into private research, when he wasn't helping his wife at the bar. Hermione had even cried when Sybil had come to say her good-byes, giving her one last, slurred, idiotic prediction, _"Don't fret, girl, you will find happiness when you are swathed in light brown. I have seen it.", _before picking up her carpet bag and tottering away.

Sinistra was determined to restore Hogwarts' status as the premier wizarding school in Europe and was sure the best way to do that was by getting the school in the papers as often as possible. She was desperate to distance herself from the turbulent times of Albus Dumbledore, the shame of Severus Snape or the quiet rebuilding of Minerva McGonagall. Pomona Sprout had come out of retirement and stayed, surprisingly supportive of Sinistra, to the detriment of Hermione's good opinion. Rolanda Hooch, bless her, had finally vented her spleen at, not just the changes, but the increasing antipathy towards the previous administrators, and had been summarily dismissed, leaving the position of flying instructor open. The other teachers had just buckled under the pressure and did what they could not to make waves. The Headmistress was a blatant publicity hound. Sinistra did everything under the harsh glare of flashbulbs and Ron was her star act. He was beloved in the school. If Ron and Hermione's split ever reached the papers, it was a sure bet that Hermione would need a new job and there weren't enough schools in the wizarding world. Jobs were thin on the ground for a Potions mistress and she had yet to garner any recognition for her own research, thus lowering her chances of moving into the private sector.

Hermione, unfortunately couldn't escape the taint of being one of Dumbledore's little soldiers, McGonagall's favourite and a vocal defender of the infamous, former Headmaster Snape. She had become more and more isolated from the rest of the staff and didn't even bother to get to know the new members after her first, unpleasant encounter with Professor Betrug Rede, the new Head of Gryffindor and Trelawney's replacement.

"_You have an unfulfilled aura…"_

"_Yes, and you have soup on your moustache, Madam."_

She really hadn't enjoyed being at the school after that. She loved being close to her children, and she loved her research. She loved explaining the art of brewing, frustrating as it was, to the next generation. But she didn't enjoy her life.

She could see herself leaving the school to find her own happiness, but she couldn't find a way around the emotional pain her children would suffer. And there was one more factor: The rest of the Weasley clan.

Hermione loved her in-laws. Each and every ginger-headed one of them. They were loud, overwhelming, and decidedly idiosyncratic, but they were hers and she was theirs. Walking away from Ron would mean losing his family.

And so, she was well and truly trapped. She couldn't leave, and he didn't seem interested in going away. Hermione sighed. She had seven more years until Hugo left school. Maybe then she would leave.

She scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of her nightshirt. Enough.

Picking up the book again, she turned to the section on repairing pre-existing damage. This was a biggie, she had been researching this one for six months now and tomorrow was the big day. She knew everything necessary but a final review was always in order.

She hunkered down with her book and studied all the charts and diagrams, one last time.

* * *

Snape walked across the field towards the equipment shed out on the pitch. Next on his list was the equipment shed. Apparently there was water damage and he needed to see what would be involved with the repair. He watched the students flitting around in the air above him, practicing drills with an adult he couldn't identify at first since they were directly in the sun. The person flew east, and he saw it was Ginevra Potter. She came by every so often to visit with her children and could usually be found at the Quidditch pitch. He watched her fly for a moment, struck by the easy grace. He had heard she played for the Holyhead Harpies, and watching her, he could easily understand why. There had been a time when he had taken such enjoyment from the game. His never ending rivalry with Minerva had been some of the cleanest fun he'd ever partaken in. The woman was a reprobate gambler and he had truly enjoyed taking her money. It had almost been as much fun handing his wager over to her. Their snarky comments had always reached for new heights of expression. However, his term as Headmaster had sucked all the joy out of their rivalry. He had avoided the matches since he had come back to the school. He was convinced nothing could make him willingly walk towards a crowd now.

He reached the shed and did a quick circuit of the outside. One side definitely showed signs of damage. It looked to him like a charm had failed, and water had started to seep into the south wall. Hopefully, only a few studs would need to be replaced. He opened the shed and walked inside. Sure enough, one of the broom racks was hanging awkwardly as the anchor screw had come away from the rotted wall. He would need a new Broom rack, six two by fours, about four square feet of roofing shingles, and some hardware. He jotted down a list of needed items for the Headmistress to approve. He also catalogued the various mould spores, both magical and mundane that he could collect for Granger in a few weeks when they matured a bit more.

He stepped back out of the shed and turned to close the door behind him. The sound of something rushing through the air caught his attention, and he turned towards the noise.

The bludger caught him in the face, full on. His head rocked back and cracked against the shed behind him, and he slid to the ground in a daze, blood pouring down his face. The sound of students landing and running over had him panicking, and he opened his eyes despite the tears and pain. He tried to stand up by throwing himself back against the shed and bracing his body against it. When he blinked the tears out of his face, he saw red.

"Mr. Snape, sir, I'm terribly sorry! I think you need to sit down." He was surrounded by short, redheaded people. One of them had her hand on his arm and was trying to guide him back towards the ground. He looked at her, blinking rapidly and recognized Potter's wife. He tried to control his fight-or-flight response while surrounded by children.

The sound of more running feet made him turn his head quickly, but his brain swam, and his legs crumpled out from under him. Students caught him and lowered him to the ground.

"Direct hit. He also smacked his head against the shed pretty hard," Ginevra said as the running feet got closer.

"I'll handle it," a warm, feminine voice said.

He looked up to see Granger hovering over him, waving her wand with a determined look on her face. He drank the potion she gave him with no questions asked, and the pain dulled immediately. However, so did his senses as he started to float under the narcotic effect.

"I've got it from here. Why don't you take the kids off, and let us have some room to work."

"Alright, you heard her. Let's give them some room. Off you go."

Snape heard the sound of the students taking off on their brooms as if from a great distance. The potion was making his head muzzy.

Granger dropped a bag to the ground, and he felt a wave of magic wash over him as she cast a diagnostic spell. He felt rather undignified, slumped against the wall of the shed with his legs sprawled on the ground, but resigned himself to her treatment. Snape's nose had been broken so many times he had lost count, so he was more than familiar with the procedure to correct it. In fact, he had repaired it himself more times than he could count. That's why he was quickly aware that something was wrong. Rather than hearing the distinct click as the spell fused the bones back together, he felt the bones shifting, and a crunching in his sinuses. It was really rather disturbing, or he was sure it should have been.

"Gra'ger! What the debil are you doi'g?" he yelled, flailing his arms.

"Sit still, Mr. Snape. This is a very delicate procedure. I will restrain you if I need to."

He blinked furiously, but obeyed the bossy voice. He did so like that voice.

"What's tagig so log?" he asked petulantly.

"Your inferior nasal concha, now hold still and be quiet. I need to get at your ethmoid."

His mind continued to float, but he understood the words completely.

"You're gibbing me a nose job? You did this on purpose?" he hissed with incredulity.

He couldn't focus, so he didn't see the guilty look dash across her face.

"You put the red-headed league up to this, did't you? You're a menace!" Panic swept over him, but the lassitude from the potion muted his ability to react. "Oh gods, you're goi'g to mage me look lige an idiot."

"I had no idea you were vain," she answered briskly.

"You don't know a lot of things about me, Gra'ger."

"Then tell me something you think I should know," she said while manipulating the tiny little bones.

"No. You'll have to werg harder than that to get me to gib up my secrets." He brought a hand up and tapped his temple. "I can still Occlude. I'm not neutered, you know, just blocked. It's all still swirling arou'd in here."

"I could make a few inappropriate comments at this point, but being a lady, I shall refrain."

He drew his brows together, trying to understand her meaning. He suspected she had made a joke.

"Stop that. No scowling until I'm done."

"I hab to scowl. It's required."

She let go with a delicious peel of laughter, and he found himself smiling uncontrollably.

"Is there a daily requirement?"

"Hourly."

"Or what happens?"

"I can't tell you that, either. 'Tis a secret."

"Such a tease," she said lightly as one more bone fell into place.

"I will tell you that if you gib me a small nose, I will neber tell you the logation of the Stagybotrys Chartarum Dragonae I just fou'd in the eguipme't shed," he said. He was vaguely aware that there was something wrong with that statement, but when he tried to parse it to find the flaw, his mind listed to port. It was getting harder to stay alert.

Her eyes glittered in merriment.

"Well then, I will have to make sure to simply repair what you have rather than live with such a mystery eating away at me. And I had such plans for a tiny little button nose. Hugo had such an adorable nose when he was a baby, and I have always missed it. I guess I'll just have to settle for keeping you from sounding like an over-excited tea kettle."

To Snape's mind there was entirely too much smugness in her voice

"_You_ are an ebil woman," he said.

She fused the bones together with a last spell. The swelling was rather pronounced, so it was difficult to tell how well she had done, but it was straight at least.

She set about cleaning off the blood and then packed his nose with her presoaked bandages and taped it. His hand came up to feel it, but she gently batted it away.

"Don't touch."

She handed him several vials, one after the other, and watched as he drank them all down. The blood replenisher was of primary importance. He was as white as a cadaver. She took the vials back and placed them into the pouch she had dropped on the ground next to her.

He looked at her and really saw her for the first time as she smeared a bruise salve over his face, gently.

She was straddling his thigh, one foot planted between his legs and her other knee braced against his hip. She was in Muggle jeans and a brown jacket with a dark red scoop-neck jumper underneath. He tried not to look down her cleavage, but failed. It was too mesmerizing. Her hair was pulled up in a severe bun that she usually didn't bother with on the weekend. He pointed at her hair and waved a hand feebly.

"Evidence," he said, finally having the full use of all of his consonants again, even if he did sound a bit nasal.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Premeditated. You never put your hair up on the weekends."

His eyes were slow to track, it seemed she had overestimated his bodyweight.

"Right well, let's just get you back inside the castle where it's nice and warm, shall we?"

She stood up and waved to Ginny, circling overhead.

Pulling out her wand, she cast a levitating spell on him, and he flailed as he was lifted off the ground. She caught his hand.

"Easy, Severus. I'm just going to take you inside. I don't think standing up yet is a good idea."

Snape went deathly still, trying not to panic.

"Are you alright? Did anything shift when I moved you?" she asked with concern, leaning over him to inspect his face.

He stared at her, and she nearly backed away. It seemed like he was staring into her soul, so intent was his gaze.

He was torn between dreadful memories of body binds, and the fact that she was touching him of her own volition. The dichotomy of experiences was too much, and he struggled not to start weeping as he fought against the effects of the drug. He couldn't help but feel tremendously exposed and embarrassed.

"Enough!" he hissed.

Granger straightened up immediately, but didn't let go of his hand. He looked away from her and felt his mind start to drift away again. This time he chased after it and embraced the haze.

She ran another quick diagnostic spell on him to make sure he was alright as she felt his hand go limp in hers. Rather than tuck it on his chest like the other one, she held onto it while she reached down and picked up his cap and placed it on his chest.

She cast a warming charm on him and set off back to the castle. Before she reached the inside, she disillusioned him. He shuddered at the feeling of cold melting down his body, and she quietly murmured some reassurance.

"It's okay. Just giving you some privacy until we get to the hospital wing."

He tightened his grip on her hand and tugged gently. She leaned over him again.

"Not Poppy. Please."

"You need monitoring, Severus," she replied.

He was quiet for a moment, but then in a small, forlorn voice he said: "She hates me."

She squeezed his hand.

"Alright then."

She brought him into the school and down the stairs into the dungeon. She opened the door to his room with a spell and floated him inside and over to his bed. A quick flick of her wand lit the lone candle, and she was momentarily distracted to see a photo of Argus Filch glowering at her angrily, before she cancelled the disillusionment charm and removed Snape's hat, cloak, scarf, and boots and settled him down onto his bed. He opened his eyes and stared at her thoughtfully. She had never seen him look so relaxed. She had definitely misjudged his body mass.

"Winky!" she called out.

The elf popped into the room.

"You needs me, Mistress?"

"Please, could you go to my quarters and grab me my extra pillows and bring me the portrait from my office?"

Winky popped away again, and Hermione pulled the shockingly pink blanket up until she had it settled around his shoulders as he watched her with calm, sad eyes.

"This is a nice thick blanket, but I have to say it's the ugliest thing I have ever seen."

"Agreed," he replied.

"Would you like me to charm it another colour for you while I'm here?"

"That would be…kind," he answered.

She lifted her wand.

"What would you like? Solids? Stripes?"

He looked into her eyes.

"Amber," he said.

She flicked her wand and whispered an incantation and the frolicking pigmy puffs vanished as the blanket changed to a solid, bright gold.

"Darker," he said, never taking his eyes off hers.

A flick.

"Warmer."

Another flick.

"Perfect."

She smiled and turned her head as Winky popped into the room with the portrait of Phineas Black. Hermione took the portrait from her and exchanged quick greetings with him. She found a hook on the wall and hung him where he could see the bed.

"Headmaster Black, I was hoping you would be so good as to watch over our patient? He's been injured and just had some major nose surgery. I need someone to keep an eye on him and send word to me in case of emergency."

"I would be honoured to watch over the esteemed former Headmaster, Professor Granger-Weasley."

"Thank you, sir. You are very generous with your time," she replied.

"Think nothing of it, girl," the portrait replied.

She turned back toward the patient.

"How do you feel now?" she asked.

Snape smirked just slightly.

"Stoned," he replied sardonically.

She smiled.

"I'm not surprised, I miscalculated your body weight, and I'm surprised you're even awake."

Winky popped back in with the pillows, and Hermione took them and helped Snape lean forward so she could wedge them behind his shoulders.

"You should try to sleep with your head elevated now," she said. She stood up and pulled a few vials out of her pouch. "There is more pain potion if you need it, I would try half a dose and see if that works. And also your bandages will need to be changed in five hours. I'll be back in at--"

"No," he said looking at her with his soulful eyes. "Don't come back."

Hermione stared at him, trying to understand the message he was sending.

"Alright, I can send Winky to wake you and help you do it yourself." She placed her bag of potions and bandages on the table.

"Granger," he said, his voice rough. She turned to look at him. "You could have asked."

She gave him a hard look. "And you _should_ have, Mr. Snape. How long were you going to walk around with your split septum and a crushed sinus? You think I don't recognize blunt trauma to the face when I see it? Do you honestly expect me to believe that if I had asked in my nicest voice you would have agreed?"

He looked at her, with her hands on her hips and her eyes full of fire, and he had to swallow down the words that were trying to crawl up his throat.

"He was wrong, Hermione."

She was so startled by the use of her name that she just stared at him blankly.

"Pardon?"

"When he said no one appreciated your efforts, he was wrong. The students respect you, Granger. I know. I hear them. I watch."

She stood there staring at him as the impact of his words hit her. He had heard them. Snape had overheard her argument with Ron yesterday. Shame flared up her face, and she struggled to gather her things and leave behind what was needed. Looking around the tiny room, she took a quick mental inventory before conjuring a glass and spelling it full of water. She placed it on the stool and pushed it next to the bed.

"Get some sleep, Mr. Snape. Phineas, please call me if you think there is need."

"Rest assured that I shall, young lady,"

She didn't even grant him a last look as she fumbled with the door latch and fled the room.

Snape settled down into the luxurious pillows knowing that he was going to hate himself in the morning but unable to bring himself to care as he drifted off to sleep. Headmaster Black stared at his charge with a speculative gleam in his eye.

* * *

It was two o'clock in the morning when Hermione heard Ron come stumbling into their quarters. He fumbled with the bedroom door before he cursed, punched it, and shuffled away to sleep on the couch again. She turned her head away from the noise and back toward her reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. Her eyes were red and swollen, but her face was curiously still and devoid of expression. It had been this way since she had come in here thirty minutes before to splash her face with cold water in an attempt to get her crying under control. It had been this way since she had lifted her face to the mirror and saw something that had made her stop crying and stare. It had been this way since she realized that her eyes were the exact same colour as Snape's blanket now. She had been staring at herself for the past thirty minutes wondering what else she hadn't seen before.

* * *

I can has review?


	4. Banquo's Boast

**AN:** Thanks go to **Hebe GB** for BritPick and alpha, and **Dressagegrrrl** for beta and comma herding! (she actually took one _out_ this time!)

* * *

Ronald Weasley stomped out of the castle gripping his broom like a lifeline. As soon as he was clear, he leaped onto it and rocketed up into the sky. A flick of his wand, and a muttered warming charm, and he was right as rain, as he angled his broom towards the train station, in Hogsmeade. He could have just walked down past the gates and apparated to London from there, but he needed the sense of freedom that flying gave him. He had never felt so trapped in his life.

He had spent another night of his married life on a badly transfigured couch. It was becoming a more common occurrence now that their youngest, Hugo was a firstie and sleeping in Gryffindor tower. Ron and Hermione didn't have to keep up pretenses for the kids anymore, and it was almost as if that small release of pressure was causing large cracks to appear in the dam. Not having to be civil in the home had spread to moments of nastiness out in the halls of Hogwarts. Ron's face flamed red as he remembered how she had flung mud on him yesterday as they finished escorting the students back from Hogsmeade.

Never in his life had Ron ever considered harming a woman, but last night, as he stared down the locked bedroom door, he had started to at least understand how a lesser bloke might consider it.

He landed at the train station and shrank his broom and pocketed it before apparating to London to meet Seamus Finnegan and Banquo Burtwill, an old teammate, to watch the Harpies play his old team, the Wanderers. If ever there was a need for a day out with the blokes, this was it.

* * *

"Tell them about the time you made twelve saves in thirty seconds while hanging off your broom by one leg!" Seamus shouted over the noise of the crowded bar.

Several pretty girls squealed and turned towards Ron, begging to hear the story. He blushed at the attention and shoved his face into his mug of ale in an effort to hide it.

"He's pulling your leg," he said after wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "It was only seven saves, and I was hanging by both legs."

The Quidditch groupies all started to fawn over him and gasp. One of them, a pretty blonde, reached out and squeezed his thigh.

"You must have really strong legs," she said coyly.

Ron pushed her hand off just as a flashbulb went off.

Banquo made short work of snatching up the camera and breaking it, starting a short altercation. The Beater's Rest was a Quidditch bar through and through, and the erstwhile photographer was summarily tossed out the door. However, the mood had been killed for Ron. Had his picture ended up in the paper, it could have cost him his job. Sinistra was pretty serious about bad press or even the hint of scandal. Besides, he wouldn't have relished the howler he would have received from his mother. His heart sank as he realized Hermione probably wouldn't even have looked up from her cauldron long enough to notice. Seamus, sensing his mood, sent the girls off toward another former player sitting at the far end of the bar, and Ron, Seamus, and Banquo were left to themselves as much as possible in the crowded place.

"Sorry, mate," Seamus said. "That was a close one. If it wasn't for that reporter, you could have had that bird." He made a rude gesture and snickered.

Ron stared off across the bar and watched the pretty blonde laughing with her friends.

"Nah," Banquo said when he sat back down. "Ron would never stray on Hermione. Back in the day, we were always trying to get him a bit of tail, but he was always on the straight and narrow with his woman. It was either lurve, or she kept his little Ronnie at home in a jar." Seamus and Banquo shared a laugh, but it died out when Ron didn't join in.

"Oi, what's wrong, Weasley? You look like someone broke your broom," Banquo asked. He grabbed a handful of Cockroach Clusters from the bowl of bar snacks and shoved them all into his mouth.

Ron watched one fall out and flicked it off the bar with his fingers. He took a deep breath and let it out.

"It's me and 'Mione. Things haven't been going right lately," he admitted.

Seamus let out a long breath.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked.

"Last couple of years. It's been getting worse ever since Hugo moved into the dorms. Now we don't even bother to pretend."

Banquo and Seamus shared a look and then turned toward the gaggle of groupies at the other end of the bar.

"You think it's just a phase, mate? You know, empty nest and all that? Give her another baby, maybe it's just her hormones or something," Seamus asked.

Ron just looked at him and shook his head.

"I asked her for another kid back when I started at Hogwarts. Hugo's a bit of a swot, just like his mum. All I said was I wanted another chance to get a son I knew how to deal with, and she lost it on me. Started accusing me of hating Rose for being a girl, and hating Hugo for not being boy enough." Ron shook his head as he relived that night in his head. "She was mental. We both said some things we shouldn't have, you know? But it's like that night poisoned us, and we've been dying slowly ever since."

Seamus slapped Ron on the arm.

"Cheer up, Ron. You two were destined to be together. You just need to figure out how to fix it."

Ron sighed.

"I dunno if I have the energy to fix it anymore. I'm tired. Tired of trying to figure out what she wants, tired of trying to put on the happy face. She's become such a shrew. I can't do anything right. She never smiles unless she's got her head in a book, or brewing a potion, or knitting another awful jumper."

"They can't be as bad as yer mum's can they?"

"Worse. She even knitted one for Snape. The poor bastard wears it every day like it's part of his sentence."

"Snape in a jumper. Now that's something I might need to see," Seamus said.

"It's not pretty, I can tell you that. Hermione made him her latest cause. Remember back when she was trying to free the house elves? Well, now all she talks about is how unjust his treatment is. She's barmy. I can't stand listening to it anymore. Some days I can't stand her."

"That sounds pretty awful, mate."

"It is. I'm in hell." Ron let out a defeated sigh and let his head sink down onto the bar. Seamus and Banquo shared a concerned look over the back of his head, and Seamus nudged him.

"Hey, didn't you guys have a civil wedding? Like my parents?"

"Yeah," Ron answered. "She wanted her Muggle relatives there, so we didn't have a Wizarding service. We talked about having a bonding ritual on one of our anniversaries, but as the years went by, that just got left in the dust."

"Well, mate, if you ain't bonded, then there's no problem getting a divorce if it's as bad as you say. Sure you'll get bad press for a while, but you're Ron Weasley. People love you. They'll forget the scandal after a while."

Ron blanched.

"Are you mental? I can't get a divorce. Me mum would kill me! And what about the kids? Rose and Hugo would be devastated. They would be eaten alive by the other kids in the school!" Ron shook his head. "There's no way."

Seamus shook his head in sympathy and then turned to his mug.

Banguo let out a belch and banged his mug down on the bar and signaled the barman before turning to Ron.

"The solution to your problem is as old as time, my friend," he said. "You just have to do what we Wizards have been doing for ages: get a mistress." He looked at Ron and waggled his eyebrows.

"You and Hermione had a good long run, what, fifteen years? Athena and I only lasted three years before looking at her put me off my food. Fifteen years is epic for active blokes like us. That's longer than most men are happy. But that's that, friend. The best way to keep her happy is to leave her alone from now on. Make your peace for the children and find your happiness somewhere else." He reached out and grabbed Ron's shoulder and turned him toward the pretty blonde still laughing across the bar. "All you need to do is sign some quiet endorsements on the side, keep the money in a separate account that Hermione will never know about and then find the time to play."

Ron felt his heart race and his mouth go dry as the words sank in.

"Nah, it's no good," he finally said. "I'd end up in the papers for sure."

Seamus, warming up to the idea, tossed in his own idea.

"You need Polyjuice. That way no one would ever know it was you," he said.

"Where am I going to find that? You can't just walk into a shop and buy it; it's restricted."

"Ain't your wife a Potions mistress? Nick some ingredients and brew it yourself," he said.

"But I'm pants at brewing, always was," whined Ron.

The three of them sat slumped at the bar in silence until Seamus raised his head and stared at himself in the mirror behind the bar as if he was a genius.

"Doesn't Snape owe you a life debt?"

* * *

Ron left the Great Hall and headed out towards the Quidditch pitch to check the equipment before the match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. It had been a week since his conversation with his mates, and their advice kept flitting through his mind like a Snitch waiting to be caught.

He hadn't spoken two words to his wife since their argument last week. Things felt so final to Ron. The idea that he was losing his wife was a constant, painful lump that he had been living with for almost two years now, and he couldn't take it anymore. He had been patient and understanding, waiting for her to explain to him exactly what he was doing wrong so he could fix it. Instead, she just kept badgering him about little things like socks on the floor, or chewing too loudly, or not taking enough time to just be with Rose or Hugo. Didn't he always take them to the Burrow whenever he got the chance? Just a few weeks ago he'd taken them there for the last weekend of the winter break. They'd looked like they'd had a fine time with their cousins while he and his father had tinkered in the shed restoring an old Muggle washing machine. To him, Rose and Hugo had seemed to enjoy themselves a good bit on that visit, but if you were to ask Hermione, they'd been miserable and abandoned the entire time.

The woman just didn't make sense anymore. Since their spat last week, he'd gone from fearing that he was losing his wife, to feeling like he had already lost her. What surprised him was the relief that had settled in.

Banquo was right. They'd had a good run. There had been a lot of good memories. But if he was ever going to be happy again, he would be better off letting Hermione slip into one of her cauldrons and find someone else to make him happy on the side. Once they stopped making demands of each other, he was sure they could settle back into being friends once more, like they always had been before.

Ron reached the equipment shed and saw it was already open, with equipment neatly stacked on the grass to the side. He poked his head around the door and saw Snape crouched down on bended knee screwing a new broom rack onto the wall with a Muggle tool. It was almost as if fate had placed him there. Ron watched the other man work while his mind started to run the varying ways he could get Snape to help him.

Ron had avoided the man like the plague since his return. Having the living embodiment of his greatest embarrassment stalking the halls like a ghoul was simply too much. Granted, he looked a lot better lately. The idea that his wife had made him some kind of project infuriated him. Bad enough she had dug her heels in and taken up Snape's former profession in honour of the greasy bastard, but Ron had been forced to listen to the staff room gossip as Snape's physical appearance and health had slowly been restored. He had confronted Hermione about it, but she had just launched into another diatribe on injustice, and Harry had been there to back her up. She had spent days knitting Snape that exact jumper he was now wearing. Ron's ears burned with shame as he remembered thinking that she was actually knitting it for him. She had quickly disabused him of that notion, reminding him, verbatim, of each and every comment he had ever made about her previous sweaters with which she had gifted him.

Staring at the man now, Ron felt the familiar loathing shudder through him. The least he could have done was die in prison. Whose idea was it to banish the Dementors anyway? To think: he had been so stupidly proud of healing him, believing Harry when he had said Snape was innocent. He had managed to hold onto a bit of pride even when Madam Pomfrey had silently castigated him for his deed. It wasn't until he had looked across the hall and saw George's horrified expression that he had really felt the shame. George, who had just had Fred cruelly ripped from him, who had lost an ear to the man Ron had just saved. That had been too much. It wasn't fair to George that Fred was dead and Snape lived, and Ron was the idiot who had saved him.

In another life, Ron might have been above using the man for his personal gain. But not this life. Ron needed Snape's skills, and Snape owed him. Big time.

The first order of business was to try and get the git on better terms; helping him out with this job should get the ball rolling.

He pulled out his wand and stepped into the shed.

*

Severus was working on the task at hand, while his mind wandered through fantasies of teaching Hermione about various potions he had never had published. He imagined the look on her face, the thrill of discovery, as she saw which direction his own, interrupted, research had taken him.

"Oi, Snape!"

Snape barely made a sound as he shifted awareness from his mindless task to being accosted in a closed-in space. Snape saw a large man, backlit by the sun, bearing down on him with a drawn wand and a shout. Weasley went down hard. Quickly realizing his error, Snape was swift in his apology as he stuck his hand out to help the man to his feet.

"You startled me, Mr. Weasley, my apologies," he said in a tense, clipped voice.

Ron rubbed his jaw. He wasn't really hurt. He was wearing his Quidditch gear already.

"You're a bit fast with a punch, ain't ya?"

Snape closed his eyes and dropped his head.

"If you wish to report my actions to the Headmistress. I will not deny my culpability."

"Now, hang on. No need for all that," Ron said reassuringly. "I should have known a guy from prison doesn't like other blokes sneaking up behind him. That one was on me. No need to get the Headmistress involved." Ron was obviously working on phrasing his next words and he didn't notice the way the other Snape's fists clenched or the furious blaze in his eyes. "I was only going to help you out a bit."

"The Headmistress forbids--"

A quick spell and the broom rack was fitted tightly to the wall. Another flick and the wood shavings and old rack were vanished; one last flick _Evanesco'd_ all the mould and mildew from the walls.

"There," he said proudly. "Let's just keep that bit of help between us men, hey?"

Snape stared at the wall where the rare Black Dragon spore had been only a moment ago, and then turned and stared at Weasley in fury.

"I can see you're still worried," Ron said. "Perhaps I could interest you in a bit of _quid pro quo_. I have a way you can help me that would be a real life saver." Weasley's hand clapped down on Snape's shoulder in an attempt at friendliness.

The glittering black rage dissipated quickly from Snape's eyes and was replaced by a look of nauseous resignation as he felt the heavy hand pressing him down.

* * *

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	5. Someone's Cosmic Joke

AN: Not Mine, No Money

* * *

Snape stormed down into the dungeons, guilt, shame, and fury clawing at his gut. He snarled at a lone Slytherin student stupid enough to get in his way and didn't even register the squeak of fright his actions caused.

Another knot of students scattered away from him but, blind with rage, he didn't even see them as he took a turn and vanished down a passage.

He unlocked the door to his room and flung it open. It crashed against the wall and bounced back, and he grabbed for it and slammed it shut with two hands, not seeing it bounce back open. Unsatisfied with that release, he grabbed up his wooden stool and swung it at the wall with all of his renewed strength. It splintered, leaving him holding one broken leg like a cudgel. He flung it across the room wishing it was a knife aimed at Weasley's throat. He gasped for breath as a pain clawed at his chest.

Finally overwhelmed, Snape collapsed onto the bed with his legs splayed out before him. He fisted his hands into his hair because the pain helped to calm him as he started a chant in his head. _Ten months, two weeks, five days. Ten months, two weeks, five days. Ten months, two weeks, five days_. That was all he had left to endure before he was free.

"Mr. Snape?"

He leaped up off the bed and spun to see Granger standing just inside his door with a concerned expression.

"The door was open. I knocked, but--Are you alright? Has something happened?"

She lifted a hand towards him but made no move to step further into his room. Snape just stood there, staring at her. He was furious and clenched his fists repeatedly. She took a step back, but he took a step forward when she did.

"Severus, what happened?" she asked again.

His face screwed up in pain, as his chest felt like it would explode. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without explanation.

She narrowed her eyes and slipped her wand out of her sleeve.

"Have you been cursed?"

He struggled, but couldn't say anything except a raspy: "No."

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"My apologies, Professor," he said. "I did not mean to disturb you."

She continued to stare at him with concern, and it was like a dagger in his heart. To feel her concern for him at such a time was a bitter gall.

"You didn't disturb me. Well, not until I found you like this. A student came to get me. They said you were about to go off on a murderous rampage. I came to see if you were okay." She pointed at the bed where he had been sitting. "You didn't hear me."

"I assure you, Professor. I am unable to launch any murderous rampages, as cathartic as the idea may seem. Again, my apologies that you were disturbed. Now if you would be so kind, I would enjoy a bit of privacy in my own quarters." He gave her a dismissive wave which she patently ignored.

"Reparo," she said just before the stool reassembled itself and came to rest next to the moth-eaten ottoman. "Explain to me what happened, and I will gladly let you be."

Snape stared at the stool in disgust before favoring Granger with a sneer. He gently reached out a toe of his boot and tapped the leg of the stool, which promptly fell to dust.

"Do you really think I would be allowed to keep anything that could still be repaired with magic?" he said with venom as he bore down on her slowly. "I am asking you, as politely as I am capable of at the moment, to respect my privacy and leave." She stood her ground.

"I would prefer it if you were to tell me what happened that upset you so. You are the caretaker here. If a student has done something to offend you, I can take it up on your behalf, if you feel your word wouldn't suffice. You always did as much for Filch," she said pointing to the photo on the table.

"Granger," he growled as he loomed over her. "Get. Out."

"No. I want to know who hurt you," she said, tilting her stubborn chin. She let out a gasp as he reached out and grabbed her by her arms and pulled her up against his hard chest until he was staring straight into her eyes, their noses grazing each other.

"And I asked you not to come back here. It would seem neither of us is destined to be satisfied." With a snarl, he shoved the red-faced woman away. He didn't use excessive force, but by the time she had recovered herself she was out in the hall. She looked up just as the door slammed in her face.

*

Hermione briefly considered going after him again, but quickly decided that was not the best plan she could come up with, by far. She decided instead to backtrack Snape's actions and see if perhaps she could sniff out what had happened to upset him so.

* * *

Snape listened to the sound of Granger's steps walking away from the door and let out the breath he had been holding. When the hallway outside was silent, he turned and leaned his back against the door and slid down until he was sitting on the floor with his elbows on his knees, his head and his hands hanging, defeated.

He tried to get a grip on himself, but couldn't. He was so filled with self-loathing he couldn't think straight. She had been so kind. She had respected him. He had allowed himself to become infatuated with her to the point where she had, unbeknownst to anyone, become the only positive thing in his life besides his release date.

And now he was going to betray her, and in a way that might actually rescind his parole if it were to be discovered, and he had no choice.

Weasley wanted him to oversee his brewing Polyjuice potion. He had, of course demanded an explanation, and even with the fool's pathetic attempts at evasion, it didn't take a genius to understand why he would want it. Snape had tried to refuse. He had, in fact, opened his mouth to do just that, when he felt that despised but familiar pain gripping his chest: life debt. On some level, Weasley believed his life was affected by this decision and with that, Snape was well and truly trapped. It had been the same when he had owed a life debt to James Potter. Even after enduring torture at the hands of Black and Potter, Snape hadn't even been free to fantasize about harm coming to Potter or his chest would constrict. He had lived these sixteen years knowing that Weasley held his fate in his hands. This last year he had allowed himself to believe that Weasley had released him somehow, perhaps at Granger's insistence. What a fool he had been.

Now he had no choice but to help the maggot cheat on his wife, the only person in the school he respected. The only person in the school who would bother chasing after him to see if he was alright. The only person who looked at him and smiled. Granger. It was so neatly done, it was almost like fate. He would have no problem stealing the ingredients. She had left him to oversee the stocks last school year. There were dozens of places in the castle that Weasley could hide from his wife and brew. Life had set him up rather neatly for this moment of ironic shame.

He reached his slender fingers up and touched his long, hooked nose, a larger version of his mother's. It was straight for the first time since he was fifteen. Granger had selflessly worked to restore him to his former health, with no further reward than knowing it was the right thing to do.

And how was he to pay back this paragon of virtue? By helping her useless maggot of a husband forsake his vows. It had only been recently that Snape had even become aware of friction in the marriage that had seemed, to his eye at least, perfect. He didn't understand her attraction to the fool. He hadn't back when they were students, but they had seemed destined to be together, and that is just how it had played out. They shared every aspect of their lives together, something that Snape had always thought of as the ideal. And yet, obviously it wasn't. Weasley wanted more, a little something on the side. Snape was agog at the thought. If he were to ever get Granger willingly in his bed he would spend every moment he could pinning her to the mattress. A troop of contortionist Veela's could come prancing naked through the room and Snape knew he wouldn't give them more than a cursory glance if he had a mouth on one of Granger's breasts. That Weasley had her for the taking and wanted something more was a cruel, sick irony that made bile rise in his throat.

And she had come to him. So full of concern and care, she had come. Not knowing the cause of his distress, she had straightened her little spine and pulled out her little wand and demanded to know how she could help. _'…who hurt you?' _He had wanted to answer with: _'you did.' _He couldn't let her know. The life debt allowed a certain amount of latitude, but alerting her to the truth wasn't a possibility. She had been so close to the truth, he could tell she had sensed some sort of compulsion and knew she would have stood her ground until she had figured it out. Instead he had thrown her out. Literally.

Snape hated his life and was thoroughly sick of being someone's cosmic joke. Until he did something that cancelled out the debt, he was at Weasley's mercy, to be called upon whenever some action of Snape's could improve Weasley's life.

The desire to throw himself off the astronomy tower bubbled up, but he knew he only had to endure a little longer and he would be free. A life debt couldn't reach across the English Channel.

Snape pushed up the sleeve of his jumper and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt. He sat on the floor for hours staring at the twin symbols of all that his life had meant to this point: the mark and the cuff. He felt sure that before he left this school, if he even left it alive, there would be another symbol on him. Some other defining thing writ bold for everyone to see and sum up his life by pointing at.

_Ten months, two weeks, five days_.

* * *

Hermione walked through the halls, herding the students off to their rooms before curfew. A part of her wanted to head down to Snape's quarters and see if he was alright, but after she had pretty much made him beg for his privacy she knew that wouldn't be a good idea. She squirmed with shame, remembering how her concern had trampled good manners. So instead, she walked the halls on her rounds and used the time, as she had so many times this past week, pondering the enigma of Severus Snape.

What had happened to cause such pain and anger for the man was an utter mystery. Hermione had retraced Snape's actions throughout the day and spoken to everyone involved. No one had mentioned anything off about his behavior until he had stormed back into the castle after repairing the equipment shed out by the Quidditch pitch. Ron had seen him there last and had assured her that nothing had seemed amiss. No one had seen him after that except the students who had run to Hermione for help. There was no way of telling if he had received an owl, but who would have written to him?

Finally exhausting her sleuthing abilities, she had alerted Albus and Minerva's portraits to the fact that something was afoot, and they assured her that they would keep an eye out. At the end of the day, that was all that one could do. Keep an eye out and hope that she could help stop whatever had put that look back on that man's face.

She took a last turn of the dungeons, pausing outside Snape's quarters, before making her way back to her own rooms. She shook her head in sad frustration and tried to get her thoughts on the man in order.

When he had first arrived he had been a wretched mess. She had felt duty-bound to help him, and would have even without Harry's plea, so she had done her best. Hermione had feared his health had been broken, that he might have been beyond her abilities. It had taken the first few weeks just for her to formulate the correct healing potions and what areas needed attention first. She had enlisted the aid of Winky to get her samples of his skin and hair and was glad she had done so, since Snape and the elf seemed to have a singular relationship.

It wasn't enough for her to just heal his body, however. She had taken it upon herself to improve the quality of his life while he was here.

After her gaffe of being too direct in her approach with the boots, she had consulted with the only other Slytherin she had access to, Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait.

She had heard about the portrait's banishment from Sinistra's office for publicly castigating the Headmistress about her treatment of Snape and had gone in search of him, finding him in a storage closet. She felt an obligation to the portrait for dragging him around, stuffed in her beaded bag all those years ago. So, she'd perched him on the wall in her private office ever since.

He had become a valuable advisor on how to deal with the former Head of Slytherin house. Taking his advice, she'd amended her actions to include all the strange and subtle nuances that would make them more palatable to the man's pride and Slytherin sensibilities. Headmaster Black and Hermione had hit upon a formula that had been rather successful: if she was too effective using Slytherin tactics, she would invoke nebulous layers of obligation and he would reject her offer for leaving him beholden. If she were ever to make the mistake of trying to be forthright, then he would shun her act of mercy as repellent, as he initially had with the boots. As long as she left a certain level of ineptitude in her attempts to manipulate the man to better health, then he was free to take advantage of her offer.

The key was to never acknowledge anything that passed between them out loud. To speak about a matter that he had determined should remain unspoken wasn't just poor form, it also invoked some nebulous level of obligation. Slytherins were inclined to deal with a situation, back and forth, without speaking about it until they were absolutely left with no choice. Whoever broke down and brought it out in the open first, lost status. Hermione had a dreadful time understanding that concept, no wonder Slytherins and Gryffindors always seemed to bump heads. On the other hand, it was interesting to know that if she ever chose to not speak about something he knew about, he would go to his grave without ever mentioning it to her again. Strange.

With this in mind, she had come up with a plan of action and had stuck to it until she had given the man back his health, his appearance (such as it was), and as much of his dignity as was possible, considering his circumstances. Ensuring that he had proper clothes was only common decency. Little things, like having Winky exchange his Muggle toothpaste with her carefully forged version that also contained a tooth-whitening potion she had designed, weren't strictly necessary. But eventually, he would be free to go back out into the world and make his own way and having his teeth alternate between white and yellow might have him at a disadvantage. She wasn't so stupid as to offer to straighten them.

Buying two subscriptions to all of her Potions Journals had been a little excessive, but the man needed to review the breakthroughs in the field that had developed since he had been locked away, and Irma Pince had said that he never borrowed a book or picked up a journal when he was in the library. She explained that the Headmistress had frowned on the idea of the caretaker monopolizing books that the students needed. Irma had looked suitably chagrined when she told her, but the librarian was incapable of bending a paperclip that belonged to the school, never mind a rule. So Hermione had tossed one of her own journals into the bin and placed a ward on it that would chime in her ear if he took it past the door to his room. Later that night while lying in bed with a book, ignoring the sound of Ron's snoring, she had heard the soft ping and smiled.

Getting him things that he enjoyed and tricking him into accepting them had become a rather enjoyable game. Even this past week, after his ambush nose job, he would have been within his rights to ignore her for at least a month, but he hadn't, instead he had made her smile. She had left a newly purchased copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes, with a ghastly, frilly bookmark that opened to the story: 'The Red-Headed League' in the dustbin. When she came in to her lab the next day she had giggled to see the horrid looking bookmark folded, spindled, and mutilated on top of her desk, and the book gone. She had been rather proud of herself. It was a gesture of apology and a token of esteem, and she had provided him with something else to reject instead of her gift. Making it so over the top added a dash of whimsy, and he had obviously risen to the occasion. The message was as clear as it ever got between them: She was forgiven.

What was even more rewarding were those few times that _he_ had indulged in a bit of whimsy. For instance, last May, Snape had submitted a list of needed tools to Sinistra. They were all of a Muggle nature and, since Hermione was the only Muggleborn staff member, the Headmistress had asked her to see about purchasing the items. She had worked hard to suppress her laugh in front of her boss when she had opened the list and read: 'Thinset, Standard cycle nut pack, King Dick 3/8 drive Whitworth socket set, a thread gauge, a tap and die set, a gross of hose clamps in varying sizes, a decent Lapsang Souchong and Jammy Dodgers.'

As per the rules of the game, she never said a word when she brought him the items. She just handed him the purchases and swept away. The next day during her free period between her third years and her fifth years, she hurried into her office with a stack of papers to be graded and collapsed at her desk. A moment later, Winky appeared with a tray, made up of a fragrant tea and a decorative plate with one, solitary Jammy Dodger.

After a year or more of their odd, sporadic interactions, they had a polite if distant rapport that somehow still seemed to fall into the realm of friendship. They had even managed humor a few times, and she was sure that he regarded her with a certain amount of grudging respect.

Any little kernel of respect from a man she considered one of the greatest Potions Theorists of the age gave her satisfaction, even if he refused to speak about the subject in even the vaguest of terms. Hermione hadn't appreciated his work until she had been in the field herself for several years. She had been cleaning out an unused storeroom and decided it was time to get rid of an old trunk she had wrongfully thought belonged to Slughorn. What she found were years upon years of notes and journals written in the unmistakable hand of Severus Snape but under the name 'Simon Shilling'. He had patents coming out of his ears on potions that had revolutionized healing. Her own work paralleled his early theories to the point that she had almost fallen into despair for reinventing the wheel until her research had led her off in a different direction. His notes stopped twenty years ago, and a little discrete snooping revealed that Simon Shilling had withdrawn all of his money from Gringotts at the same time that he had sold all of his patents. Then he had walked off the planet. Hermione had no doubt that Snape had that money hidden somewhere, and she had taken it as part of her cause to ensure he would be able to enjoy it. She hadn't even mentioned it to Harry. The man needed at least _some_ secrets.

She found herself looking forward to those short moments here or there during the week when they would cross paths. She enjoyed his company. She couldn't really put into words why. It certainly wasn't the conversation. Her first attempts at small talk hadn't really worked out. Discussing the various gossipy bits from the school brought only a disdainful sniff. Trying to draw him into a discussion on Potions theory had been disastrous. He had frozen up and looked at her like she had betrayed him somehow and vanished from the dungeons completely for two weeks. No, most often she worked while he puttered about, and the two exchanged little more than greetings and farewells. But she found his presence comforting all the same.

It was because of these small but meaningful exchanges that she had chased after him earlier. Something had upset him deeply, and she had blundered in with her typical Gryffindor lack of subtlety and offended him. She shivered as she remembered the way he had grabbed her and pulled her close, the emotion raging in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, she'd had the ludicrous thought that he was going to kiss her, and her cheeks burned again at her foolishness.

Last week, when she had left him to convalesce in his room, there had been a strange tension in the air that she couldn't quite define. Later that night, when she had been staring in her mirror, she had suddenly wondered if perhaps there was more to the man's opinion of her than she had known or understood. She had carefully gone over their every interaction looking for proof of her silly speculation but found none. A solitary biscuit is not a declaration. Neither was a running inventory. She understood that he enjoyed the act of puttering around with the potions stores. However enjoyable their infrequent exchanges could be, they were well interspersed with long periods of time wherein they saw neither hide nor hair of each other. If Snape had developed a tendre for her, he was very good at hiding it. Then again, the man had been a spy. Her brain grabbed this as something in support of her flight of fancy. His uncharacteristically kind words about her argument with Ron, and that enigmatic look he had given her had played over and over in her mind, until they found an opening in her own loneliness and took off running across a fertile field. She had spent the next several days reevaluating Severus Snape as a _man _and found the idea made her surprisingly giddy.

Her rational mind understood her sudden attraction, and she did her best to explain it away. Far away. He was noble, dreadfully misunderstood, intelligent, and carried himself with a dignity that seemed unshakable. He wasn't good looking, but still managed to somehow be attractive; his inner character more than compensated for outward flaws. All that had been needed was one final ingredient: Hermione's own personal unhappiness. He treated her with respect when it seemed no one else would, and trying to improve the hellishness of his own existence had been a much needed distraction from her own dreary life.

One enigmatic look while she changed the color of his blanket had been the final spark that launched her mind in entirely inappropriate directions. It wasn't a blatant look of lust, or a smoldering look of passion, but it had been _something_. She spent her life being looked at and knew for a fact that no one had ever looked at her that way before. Granted, he had been high as a kite.

When he had grabbed her and hauled her up against his body, she had been confronted with a harsh truth: she was a fool. It was obviously a blatant act of aggression and intimidation, an effective tactic meant to throw her thoughts into disarray long enough to get her out the door. And yet, she had thought he was going to kiss her. More than that, she'd _wanted_ him to. She felt her cheeks flame up again and muttered angrily to herself. Clearly her imagination had caused her to take leave of her senses. Severus Snape would hardly allow himself to be attracted to anyone at this school, never mind the only female member of the Golden Trio. Now that her absolute mortification had cleared her mind, she felt utterly stupid to have thought she had even a ghost of a chance to rank on the same level as Harry's mum.

It was obvious now that he had been indulging in a strange form of drug-induced whimsy, and it had nothing to do with her as a person, only as a female.

She needed to put the look he gave her a week ago out of her mind and concentrate on the look she had seen this afternoon. Hermione had seen that expression on his face before in the pensieve when Harry had shown her Snape's memories. It was not a look one could forget. It was horrified guilt, incarnate. Hermione was absolutely sure that someone had done something terrible to the man, and her protective instincts were screaming at her to intervene.

The problem was she had no idea _how_.

* * *

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AN: Our Program has been brought to you today by: Alpha **Hebe GB**, Beta **Dressagegrrrl**, and Omega **Whitehound.** Okay, hit it girls! And one and two and... No, Hebe the other way! Left! Left! Dgrrl, it's a _Can Can_, not the _Pony!_ Oh, just...


	6. What Desire Tastes Like

**AN:** Thanks, as always, to Alpha **Hebe GB**, Beta **Dressagegrrrl** and Omega **Whitehound**!

**Not mine, no money.**

* * *

Snape paced back and forth across the stone floor of the empty office as Weasley mangled another batch of boomslang skin. It was a costly ingredient, and this was the second batch to be ruined. The irony of his repeatedly stealing boomslang skin from Granger wasn't lost on him. At least she had gotten it right in one go when it had been _her_ stealing from _him_.

He came to a sudden stop and, shaking back the sleeve of his jumper, he reached out and picked up the pile, letting it dribble back onto the cutting board.

"Excellent, Weasley. You have just thoroughly ruined another thirty Galleons' worth of ingredients that belong to your lawfully…wedded…_wife_. Keep this up, and I shall be spared another little midnight rendezvous by the simple expedient of getting tossed back into Azkaban when our thievery is discovered. Very subtle. One would think you might be having _doubts_ as to the intelligence of your plans."

Ron bristled and hunched his shoulders.

"If you're worried about getting caught, then I will remind you that this would go a lot quicker if _you_ shredded this stuff," he said through clenched teeth

Snape graced him with a thin, nasty smile.

"Oh, but I feel no compulsion to prevent my own demise, Weasley. Only to help you achieve your own special brand of self-immolation." His hand struck out and swept the costly ingredients to the floor.

"Again."

* * *

Ron tip-toed back into his quarters. A quick check of the wards on her bedroom door assured him that his wife was still sleeping and hadn't left her room at any point. He kicked his shoes off in the middle of the room and dropped his robe in the doorway of the new spare bedroom. After Hugo had moved into the dorm, the castle had reclaimed the extra room. Hermione, in an increasingly rare gesture of compassion, had placed an extending charm on their sittingroom cupboard, and he had furnished it with discretely purchased furniture. The room was a bit dodgy; certain things had a tendency to disappear. First it was a sturdy stool. Next, it was the chest and then a small, matching desk for which he had paid good money. After that, he had bought second-hand stuff, but so far, none of that had vanished mysteriously.

Dropping his shirt onto the floor, he paused to give his bollocks a good scratch before he crawled into bed in his socks and underwear. The bed was almost painfully uncomfortable, as if someone had placed a jinx on it to keep it that way. He hit it with a cushioning charm and sighed. Hermione could be a right bitch most of the time, but she was above petty malice and would never do anything like that. It would require something in the realm of a sense of humor, which she'd been born without.

He stretched out and stared at the ceiling, tucking one arm under his head and shoving the other down his pants in the universal male sign of comfort.

His plans were all coming together. The potion would be done tomorrow. Weeks of planning and preparations had gone into this moment. Tomorrow night he would be a new man. Literally.

He had gone out last weekend with Banquo and Seamus and trolled Muggle bars looking for just the right man to impersonate. Finally settling on a fairly handsome bloke, Seamus had disillusioned himself and followed the guy into the toilet, coming back with a rather large amount of his hair. They had laughed for hours at the memory of the man's face when he had been told about his bald spot by his date. Seamus had also nicked his Muggle ID and made a copy, just in case he ever needed more hair.

They had plans to go out tomorrow night and hunt for some birds. Ron grimaced as a spark of conscience burned him, but quickly beat the thought out. It was nothing more than Snape playing with his brain. Throughout this whole process, the man had been twitting Ron about what he was doing and why he was doing it, lecturing long and often on what a fool he was being and how he was putting so much at risk. Many of the comments had struck home; it was at those moments that Ron felt a certain amount of clarity and was suddenly struck by the terrible nature of his actions and just how out of line he had become. But soon enough, the feeling would fade, leaving behind nothing but seething resentment and a clawing need for freedom.

The git had no sympathy; appealing to him, man to man, had fallen on its face. Obviously the bastard didn't have needs. Considering his embarrassing infatuation with Harry's mum, Ron thought it was highly probable that Snape had never even got any. Thinking about Snape having sex made Ron laugh out loud, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. He was all skin and bones and would probably injure the girl. He bet the bat was a squealer, too. Ron remembered hearing Neville one night when the sod had forgotten to place his Silencing Charms. Seamus and Ron had laughed themselves sick at the high-pitched noises before Harry had ruined all the fun.

Thinking of Harry sobered Ron immediately. He still thought of him as his best friend and he was certainly more than just family, but Harry and Ron had grown more distant since he had come to teach at the school. He assumed it was because Harry was jealous. Ron had the perfect, carefree life, and Harry was weighed down with the burdens of running the Auror department. Harry and Ron had little in common anymore besides memories. He could never have talked to Harry about what he was going through. He would never have understood. And besides, Harry would be furious if he found out how Ron was exploiting Snape's life debt. Harry still worshiped Snape, and that was something Ron would never understand. He had tried to get Ron to look at the guy's memories but there was no way. Even the whole thing with Snape and his mum, how wrong was that? If Ron had found that Snape had been perving after _his _mother all these years he would have called him out on it. But Harry? Harry had practically tried to adopt the git. He had made a fool of himself at his trial and spent hundreds of Galleons with each court action he had forced. Hermione had been right in the thick of it as well. Ron scowled as he thought about how many evenings he had been stuck listening to her rattling on about how unjust the Wizarding world was that they didn't accept Pensieves or portraits as evidence. Sure, Snape's testimony had held up under Veritaserum, and that had kept him from a life sentence. The git should be grateful. He was a murderer, for Merlin's sake.

Ron rolled over and settled down to sleep. Everything was set for tomorrow evening. All he had to do was stop at Gringotts and withdraw some of the money from his new account, and he would be free and clear. If only he could just stop the niggling voice in his head from telling him he was being a complete bastard.

* * *

"Right then, all I do is add the hair?"

"Correct."

"And then when I get where I'm going, I take a sip, and I'm good to go."

"As you say."

"And I need to drink this every hour on the hour?"

"Your comprehension is astounding."

"And these flasks will last for how long?"

"Once you add the hair, then the potion will last for one month before spoiling."

"How long will it last without the hair?"

"Up to three months with a stasis charm renewed every other day."

"Well then, let's not waste what we have then. I'll just take these two flasks with me, and we'll put all these others in stasis. That way I won't have to call on your services again anytime soon, eh?"

"How…considerate."

* * *

Hermione sat out on the lawn with her children. It was late afternoon, and the beautiful sunshine was starting to fade. She cast a few more Warming Charms around the picnic blanket. It was a bit too early in the year for a picnic, but she had decided to let whimsy rule when she had seen how beautiful the day was. Hugo had his transfiguration book open in his lap, and Rose was leaning against the tree eyeing the last pumpkin pasty. Hermione demonstrated the proper wand technique for Hugo, and as he tried again she levitated the pasty over to her daughter who made the tiniest squeal of happiness, before she snatched it out of the air and gobbled it up.

The sound of footsteps had them all turning their heads, and it was like a cloud blotted out the sun when she saw her husband walk up. She kept her pleasant smile on her face and turned back to flick an ant off the blanket and away from the food.

"Having a picnic, I see," he said pleasantly. Hermione nodded. "That looks like fun. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I'm off with the blokes. I'll probably be out late, so don't bother waiting up." She kept her face calm and didn't snort, which made her rather proud of herself.

"Remember to get your homework done before bed, Rose, and don't eat too many of those. A girl's got to watch her figure, after all. Hugo, you probably had your homework done before you brushed your teeth this morning, eh? Of course you did." Hermione's smile died as she watched her son's expression falter and her daughter's hackles rise. Ron didn't notice. He never did.

"Right. Well, I'm off." He patted Hugo on the head and leaned down to kiss his daughter. Straightening up, he gave Hermione a strange look before nodding at her and turning away. The trio watched him lope down to the front gates in silence.

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine and turned to look behind her.

Just visible in the shadows of the entrance she saw Snape. He was staring off across the lawn in the direction that Ron had left in. She couldn't be sure from this distance, but the way he held his body made her think he was very angry. As she watched him, he turned and looked at her, and his face was full of rage.

Hermione reared back as if she had been struck.

"Mum, you alright?" Rose asked.

She turned back to her children.

"I'm fine, love. Let's see that one more time, Hugo, shall we?"

* * *

Hermione sat down heavily in the chair in her private office and sighed. Shoving the stack of essays to the side, she reached down and opened the bottom drawer to her desk. She pulled out an ancient bottle of Firewhisky and a cut-crystal tumbler that she had found hidden in the desk years ago and thumped them down on top of the desk. She loved this desk. It had been Snape's, and Minerva had given it to her when she had made her full professorship. Careful inspection had revealed a myriad of hiding places, mostly empty. The only other personal items she had found had been an antique inkwell set and a second wand. She had kept the items, intending to return them along with all the Simon Shilling journals when he was freed. However, she would need to replace the bottle. In the twelve years she had been in possession of it she had made a bit of a dent in it. She justified her pilfering with the excuse that he had probably forgotten the bottle existed and, as a parolee, Snape was forbidden alcohol. Wards in the castle would alert the Headmistress if he drank any. So, he deserved a new bottle when he was freed anyway.

"Surely it's not that bad, Professor," said a voice over her head.

"Hello, Headmaster," she said to the portrait above her desk. "How is everything with you this evening?"

"Better than you appear, young woman. It's unseemly for a lady to drink alone," he sniffed.

"Join me then, good sir. I'll wait." She poured out a healthy measure as Phineas popped out of his frame. She swirled the drink around in the glass until he returned with a goblet she had seen in the portrait of the singing Cavaliers.

"To what do we drink tonight, young lady? I'm guessing from your countenance that it isn't glad tidings or success. A student blew up a cauldron, perhaps? Or did your useless husband stab himself in the lip with his fork again?"

She gave a dry chuckle.

"No, tonight we drink to the mysterious end of a peculiar friendship. You are a most welcome companion since he was of your house."

"Ah, understanding dawns." He lifted his goblet. "To Headmaster Snape."

Hermione gave him a brittle smile.

"To Snape." She leaned up and clinked her glass gently against the canvas and took a sip. The warmth slithered down to her belly and spread out quickly to her limbs. "I really should save this for him. It will be hard to find a replacement bottle that aged as well as this."

"If you plan on replacing that, then you had better start saving now, my dear. Our former headmaster had few indulgences, but that was one of them. That bottle is over two hundred years old."

Hermione choked on her next sip.

She looked up and saw the gleam in Black's eye.

"Indeed, I'll have to cut back on a few things then," she said with a smile. "Tell me, Phineas, what were some of his other indulgences?"

Black's face closed up.

"It is not for me to reveal another man's secrets, and he has had far too many revealed, to no advantage for him. Let us allow him some small dignities, hm?"

Hermione's face fell.

"You're right. But I only asked to see if there was something I could get him or bring him that would give him pleasure. It seems I've done something to get on his bad side, and I don't know what to do."

"Really? How extraordinary. Explain."

Hermione looked up at the tone of his voice to see if he was being snide, but he looked like he was honestly perplexed.

"Well, I'd thought that we had achieved a certain understanding. That we'd hit a level of mutual respect and what I considered a friendship, although probably no one else would have," she muttered that last bit into her drink glass.

"Go on," said the portrait.

"Do you remember me asking if you knew of anything going on in the castle that might have upset him a few weeks ago?"

"Indeed I do, and unfortunately, even my most diligent observation has revealed nothing."

"I know. No one's has. He won't talk to Albus or Minerva anymore, either. He won't look at either them, or me, unless it is from across a vast distance, and with hate." She sighed. "I knew something had happened to upset him. But now I think it's me somehow. He acts as if I've hurt him, but I don't know how that could be. He doesn't come into my lab anymore. The journals I leave for him are still in the rubbish when I come in the next day. He still keeps track of the supply cupboard, but other than leaving me a list of what we are running low on, we don't interact at all anymore. I miss him. Well, I miss the way things used to be," she amended quickly. She flopped back in her chair and sighed heavily.

"It's so frustrating. I spent the last year using up all of my free time trying to make his life better." She saluted the portrait with her glass. "With your valuable assistance." Phineas gave her a slight bow in acceptance. "But now that I've completed my list of things to do, he's miserable. And I admit, so am I."

She took another sip as the portrait gazed at her in silence.

"I'm just being selfish. You know things aren't pleasant in my personal life. You've been the unfortunate witness to a few arguments in here in the past. Now that I don't have Severus, I'm stuck with nothing but misery. Perhaps I need to just chalk it up to a bad job and leave him the solitude he wants. I think my blundering Gryffindor tendencies ruined what respect he had for me."

Phineas looked at her with sympathy. He readily admitted the Mu--_ggle-born_ chit had grown on him, and whenever she got him involved in something, it always turned out to be interesting. Besides, he owed her. That harridan Headmistress had crammed him into a closet. He would have been relegated to constantly imposing on other portraits at the castle or being stuck at the annoyingly cheerful Potter household if not for this woman. She looked so despondent that he took pity on her.

"I will tell you one thing about Headmaster Snape: for as much as he blusters, he always did have a fondness for pretty, blundering Gryffindors. So I would discount that bit of maudlin self-indulgence."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look.

"I've heard a few descriptions of Harry's mother, but none of them described her as blundering," she said.

"Good heavens, girl. You don't think she was the only female to catch his attention, do you? She might have been the only one he actually loved, and she was certainly the only one to spurn him, and the only one he got _killed_." Hermione blanched at his bald statement but said nothing as he continued. "But Snape has had several ladies that he spent time with over the years, although nothing one would consider as serious. Tall or short, thin or round, they all had four things in common. They were all highly intelligent, bossy and, ahem, well-endowed, and more than half of them were Gryffindors. He has a positive weakness for them, like you and macaroons."

For some reason, Hermione blushed scarlet. This insight into Snape was a bit more than she had been expecting. Indeed, it was more than she was even comfortable knowing. With a simple offhand remark, Snape had gone from the repressed, unrequited, tragic hero, to a bit of a rake.

"Erm, how many women are we talking about, exactly?"

The portrait scowled at her.

"_That _is neither here nor there. My point in bringing it up is germane to your suspicions. I doubt that your personality is at fault for this apparent breach in relations. I would re-examine everything you know and use it to determine what ails our erstwhile Potions master. If he was, as you say, offended enough to give you the cut direct, then why is he still taking inventory?"

"That's obvious. He finds it sentimental to spend time in the lab."

"Piffle. You will never know what a Slytherin finds sentimental unless he tells you, and even then the information would be suspect. That sort of thing is personal, and Slytherins would never reveal what could be used against them to anyone with whom they don't share a deep and intimate bond. The exchange of personal information would be highly unlikely unless either the balance of power in the relationship is firmly on their side, or they have had the bad misfortune to fall in love, in which case they deserve what they get. No, if he is truly avoiding you, and I suspect he is, then there is a purpose to his still keeping up that inventory. I would start there." He made a point of finishing his goblet. "Go. Start looking with your brain and not your feelings like a typical, blundering Gryffindor." He bowed to her and swept out of his frame.

Hermione downed the last of her drink with a grimace and cleaned the glass with a spell before replacing the bottle and tumbler in the hidden drawer.

She stood up and wobbled a bit, her mind pleasantly muzzy from her rare indulgence. Her brain was filled with all the imagined women Snape had been with in the past. She looked down at her own bosom, something she was rather proud of having acquired late in the game, as they say. Pregnancy had left her with more than she had started out with, and even with the subtle sag, they had managed to retain a pleasing shape. Could Snape have been ogling them, as Headmaster Black had implied? The idea was rather titillating. She looked down again and popped open a few buttons on her robes, arranging her neckline to better display her assets. Not too much, mind. It wouldn't do to look obvious. She popped the buttons on the cuffs of her sleeves as well and fluffed out her hair.

"Time to go a'blundering," she said before she swept out the door.

* * *

Snape had been returning to his room when he saw a light on in the lab. Not the whole room itself, just a single light, coming from the supply cupboard. He felt a cold hand clench his gut, and he slid into the room to investigate. He silently stalked across the lab until he could see into the open doorway where he found Granger up on the ladder, sorting through jars, while holding a clipboard in her hand. The cold hand in his gut twisted; she looked like she was either at the end of the As or the beginning of the Bs from what he could tell. He paused for a moment to plan the best approach--a quick surprise, a pretend dodge to the side and a strategic knocking of two, maybe three jars just to the left should work splendidly--and then he went into action.

*

Hermione was having trouble with the inventory; not because any of the figures were off, but because she was slightly drunk and kept making marks in the wrong place. She'd made a complete mess of things. Her grand plan, when she left her office, was to find Snape and see if she could catch him staring at her breasts. What this had to do with figuring out what was wrong with him she had no idea, but it seemed like a good plan nonetheless. Instead, she had walked the hallways until she was tired and irritable and decided the better plan was to go do her own inventory for once. She had re-buttoned her robes, putting away her assets, and got to work. Now this plan looked to be crap as well. Yes, it was obviously a crap plan altogether. She scowled as she scratched through her figures for bat toes and rewrote the figures under bat eyes. So far her count matched his figures exactly, but at this point she was tired and a bit loopy, and she could feel a headache coming on.

"Having trouble sleeping, Professor?"

Hermione yelped and started to fall backwards off the ladder. She reached out and grabbed at a shelf only to feel the shelf give under her weight. It a panic she spun to the left and cracked Snape upside the head with her clipboard. He let out a grunt of pain and grabbed at her just as she threw herself to the side, at which point the ladder slid out from under her and went careening into another set of shelves. With a shrill scream, she collapsed into his arms and together they crumpled to the floor amidst the sound of smashing glass.

*

Dazed, Snape opened his eyes to the almost total destruction of the potions stores. He was sprawled on the floor with Granger in his arms, her head protectively tucked under his cloak, and her body stretched out between his legs. Turning his head, he looked up and saw the damning, mostly empty jar of boomslang skin sitting pretty–as-you-please on a shelf alone, its neighbors having decided to partake in the mass suicide on the floor. With a look of utter disbelief, he lifted a hand and pushed the jar off the shelf. Granger jumped when it smashed on the floor as well. He felt her start to shake.

"Are you alright, Granger?" he asked, concerned, lifting his cloak to look at her.

She peeked up at him with the same dazed expression and shuddered.

"What happened?"

He blinked and looked around.

"I startled you, and you…" He raised a hand and waved it about the room. "you…fell. You fell all over the place," he said incredulously.

She made to push off him, but he clamped his arms around her.

"Careful. There is broken glass everywhere," he said before loosening his hold on her waist. She lifted up and looked around, both hands planted on his chest. She carefully pushed off of him and regained her feet, reaching down to pull him up beside her.

She pulled out her wand and cleaned him off with a flick. Her mouth was still hanging open, and her eyes were still huge and round. He took her hand and led her carefully out of the room. Once in the doorway, she turned back and began to vanish the mess on the floor, not seeing the sudden droop of Snape's shoulders, or his pained expression.

"You should clean yourself," he urged her gently.

She looked at him and then down at herself. Her robes were a complete mess. She _Tergeo'd_ everything, including her hair, which made it frizz up around her like a troll doll that had been popular when he was a child. She smoothed it, with a self-conscious gesture, and looked back at the near total destruction of her personal stores and teared up.

Watching her, Snape felt like the lowest cad. He reached out and tentatively touched her shoulder, trying to comfort her for the mess he had caused.

She looked back over her shoulder at him.

"How am I going to replace all this? It took me years to acquire it all."

"You don't," he said. "Make the school do it. I complained about those shelves twenty years ago, and I know Slughorn bitched endlessly about them when I was Head. They cannot be reinforced with magic without contaminating ingredients, and people outside our field don't understand that. Simply tell Sinistra they collapsed and send her a bill for your damages. She will send me to inspect them, and I will confirm their condition. Not that she doesn't have the proof on file somewhere already."

She turned back towards him with a small smirk on her face.

"Slytherins make such handy allies," she said.

He nodded to acknowledge the compliment and looked at her with a question in his eyes.

"What were you doing up so late?" he asked, softly.

"Blundering," she replied.

He chuckled quietly.

"You always did overachieve. And was there a purpose to this activity?"

She dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of a sleeve.

"I missed you," she said simply.

He stared at her as if she had just spoken a foreign language.

"I don't know what I did to make you mad at me, and I'm sorry. I miss you. You're my friend, and I worry about you. Phineas said you probably didn't hate me and that I should go blundering. Well, not in those words, but I've made a huge mess of everything, haven't I?"

Snape leaned in and inhaled her scent.

"Granger, have you been drinking?"

"I shared a glass of your Firewhisky with Phineas."

"_My_ Firewhisky?"

"Yes, I found it in your desk. Minerva gave me your desk when I became a full professor."

"I…see. And so you shared my Firewhisky with a portrait?" She nodded. "And did this portrait happen to tell you why I probably didn't hate you?"

She looked at him and nodded vigorously.

"And are you going to share this explanation?"

"Oh, he said I had some qualities you have shown appreciation for in the past."

*

And…there. He did it. His eyes slid down and he ogled her breasts. For some reason, she felt ridiculously pleased with herself. When he lifted his eyes back up she was looking straight into them, and two spots of color appeared on his face. He stiffened and stepped back away from her, but she followed.

"Don't run away from me again," she blurted out.

"What possible purpose would my _appreciation_ serve you, Professor?" he bit out.

"I want to be friends again," she replied.

"Friends? Is that what we are discussing? And what if I don't want to be _friends_?" he said.

"What _do_ you want, Severus?" she asked. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment before he collected himself and backed away, closing himself down completely.

"What I want, _Mrs. Weasley_, is for you to leave me alone." With that, he turned and stalked out the door, leaving Hermione staring after him.

* * *

"You did _what?!_" he hissed.

Hermione sighed.

"I already told you. I ruined the supply closet. There's no way to find out what he was hiding now."

In his frame, Phineas Nigellus Black's eyes were nearly crossed as he tried to stifle the disbelief that had been nearly choking him for the last five minutes since the hysterical woman had come stumbling back into her office and disturbed his sleep.

"What were you doing down there in the first place?"

Hermione blushed.

"You were the one that sent me down there!" she shouted.

"Yes, but I didn't intend for you to go when you had been drinking."

Hermione flopped back into her chair.

"This was all a total disaster," she said mournfully.

"No, it wasn't," he said, once he had pulled himself together. "You found out two important things you needed to know."

"What? That I can't hold my liquor? I already knew that, thanks. Or the fact the Severus doesn't want to be my friend? I had actually cottoned on to that fact, as well," she snapped.

"Don't get waspish with me, young lady. I refer to the fact that: _A_. He definitely wanted something in that room destroyed when he saw you taking inventory, or he wouldn't have startled you alone in a stockroom at midnight. I have no doubt the extent of the…destruction was beyond the scope of his expectations, but something did indeed need to be destroyed before you saw it.

"And also there is fact _B_. And this fact complicates things considerably. You have correctly recounted your conversation with Snape, but as usual with Gryffindors, completely misunderstood the nuance. Our esteemed former Headmaster doesn't want to be your _friend_, my dear." Hermione slumped further down into her chair. "It's as obvious as the nose on his face that he would prefer something a great deal more intimate than that. Headmaster Snape desires _you_, and you had better think long and hard about what that means to you."

Hermione stared in irritation at the portrait.

"I don't see how that can be true. I'm--"

"You're what? Pretty? Intelligent? Shapely? Share a rather large common interest? You've never tried to cheer him up? Improve his life? Merlin's balls woman, the man's been prosecuted, persecuted, tortured, and reviled for these last sixteen years, and you threw yourself in his face like a red flag. Just what about this shocks you? Gryffindors! I had suspected something along these lines, but hadn't realized it had become so…evolved."

"But--"

"But what? But you're married? Yes, and I suspect that is why he has asked you to leave him alone." Phineas sighed. "Hermione, dear, go to bed. Think about what you have learned tonight. Think hard. I know you valued your acquaintance with him, but he has as good as said that he is unable to continue. You need to respect that. You are in no position to do differently.

"Don't misunderstand my words, my little Gryffindor. I mean no insult, but I am not saying that Severus loves you. He _wants_ you. There is a vast difference with Slytherins, something the members of your house constantly confuse, as you have already found out to your own detriment. But he is vulnerable right now; I think if you were to start a liaison with him, he might have a difficult time keeping it appropriately _meaningless_. I suspect he knows this. He has shown you respect by asking you to leave him be. I recommend you do so."

Hermione reeled from Phineas' new insight. When put as bluntly as that, she looked rather stupid for not having seen it before. He _was_ attracted to her. But he had done nothing, _nothing_, to alert her to his feelings until that evening when she had repaired his nose. The man was almost ludicrously subtle.

She felt a little bit vindicated that her silly notions had actually been close to the truth. The idea made her heart skip around in her chest. The irony was that now that she returned his attraction, he wasn't interested. And just what was it that she wanted? An affair? To cheat on her husband? Hermione wasn't prepared to go that far. She'd thought about him often enough these last few weeks to know that if she were free and clear, she would had been amenable to something. However, it wasn't in her nature to cause harm. If she were to act on the attraction between them, then too many people could get hurt. Obviously Snape had taken the moral high ground and withdrawn from the field, as it were.

"If you are interested in finding out what is wrong with him," Phineas said above her, "then my advice is to keep your head and not let your messy personal life interfere."

Hermione nodded and pushed herself out of the chair.

"I will do that," she said.

* * *

*

And the plot thickens... But now is the time for all good readers to be asking yourselves: Just what _is_ wrong with Ron, anyway?

*

Reviews are love.


	7. Rational Ratios

**AN:** Thanks to my gals, **Hebe GB**, **Dressagegrrrl** and **Whitehound**, who keep me sane, and keep you from having to deal with my clause addiction and severe lack of comma sense.

**Not Mine, No Money.**

* * *

Hermione entered her quarters in a daze. Closing and warding the door behind her, she wandered into her bedroom and heard the sound of running water cut off. The bathroom door opened, and Ron came out with a towel around his waist, rubbing his hair dry with another. He stopped short when he saw her and his face flushed red.

"Mione? I saw your office light on. I thought I'd just grab a quick shower," he said apologetically. She didn't respond, just stared off into the distance behind him. He wrapped the towel around his shoulders and started for the bedroom door, but stopped halfway across.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

She blinked and looked at him, and her eyes filled with tears. His heart started to pound.

"There was an accident in the lab," she replied in a small voice. "I lost a lot of costly ingredients."

Ron nearly sagged with relief.

"What happened?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"Some shelves collapsed when I was taking inventory."

His face clouded with sudden concern, and he came over and pulled her into his arms.

"Are you alright? Were you hurt?"

She relaxed against him and rested her head on his chest.

"No, just…overwhelmed. I lost over a thousand Galleons' worth of ingredients."

Ron stiffened.

"Blimey, Mi. You gotta be more careful. We're not made of money. It's not like we could replace that stuff in a day, you know?" He smelled her breath when she huffed. "Mione, have you been drinking?"

She stiffened and stepped back out of his arms. Ron bristled as she looked at him like he was a failed potion, again.

"Were you drunk? Did you wreck the place because you'd been drinking? That's not like you, Mi. What's going on?"

She stared at him with no expression on her face.

"I had one glass of Firewhisky, Ron. That doesn't make me a lush."

He threw his hands up and shook his head in disappointment at her.

"Well, it's gonna have to come out of your salary, Mi. Mine's locked up with other expenses at the moment." When she failed to respond he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm glad you're not hurt," he added.

"Thank you," she answered politely. The tension in the room began to build and it seemed like the temperature had started to plummet. Ron grimaced, once more unsure of what he was expected to do. She always made him feel so stupid.

"Well, I'm sure a good night's sleep will fix you right up," he said. "I'll leave you to it."

He left the room quickly, resenting the fact that the freedom he had experienced all evening had been so short-lived. He hurried to his bed, casting a cushioning charm as usual, and flopped down, overwhelmed with his belated guilt and shame. He ground his teeth together, angry at himself, and resentful that his wife still had the power to make him feel this way, when she obviously didn't care about _him_ at all. His terror at being discovered had evaporated in the face of her obvious despair. He had tried to comfort her, but as usual, it was like trying to reach through a fog. He was tired of groping around in the mist seeking purchase. He was just…tired.

He turned his face to the wall and tried to call up the memory of the girl he had met. He felt his cock stir as he remembered her talented hands. He tried to remember if her eyes were blue or hazel and was frustrated when he couldn't.

*

Hermione watched her husband leave the room and closed the door behind him with a gentle flick of her wand.

She analyzed the ratio of quality of comfort to quantity of comfort. Severus had managed to express and impart more in a three-fingered touch on her shoulder than Ron had managed with his entire, mostly naked, body. It was close, she could say that, but the difference was striking. Even with his impromptu lecture on household economics, a subject he knew next to nothing about, the way he had held her, just for a moment, had almost been better than three fingers on the shoulder. Only almost. Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she remembered what it had felt like when Severus had held her in his arms, even if it was just to save her from the falling bottles and jars.

She turned towards the bathroom and began stripping off her robes. She had begun the evening mourning the loss of a friendship she had valued. Now she felt like she had lost a lover she'd never had. It was all so very confusing.

* * *

Hermione took Phineas' advice and left Severus alone after that night. She only caught fleeting glimpses of him and made a point not to seek him out, depending on Albus and Minerva to keep her apprised of his actions. She tried to adjust. She didn't leave him any more gifts.

She had informed Sinistra of the damage to the lab storeroom, and Sinistra had accepted the school's liability over the faulty shelving. Hermione's moral code was amazingly flexible when it came to that woman. It had taken the expected time for the paperwork to go through the proper channels, but finally, three weeks after the incident, Sinistra had asked for a tally of the damages to send off to the Ministry which had approved her reimbursement.

Hermione was in the lab going through her destroyed stocks, crouched down, making a count on a lower shelf, when a shadow fell over her. She looked up and saw Severus standing just inside the door. Recovering quickly from her surprise, she modulated her voice into pleasant neutrality.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Snape?" she asked, turning back to her task.

"The Headmistress asked me to help you and then get an estimate of supplies needed for repairs," he replied. There was a sour note that couldn't be missed.

Hermione knew from her frequent dialogues with Phineas that the best course of action was to not acknowledge anything unspoken unless it was also in a way that remained unspoken, so she didn't react to the obvious displeasure in his voice.

"Very well," she said.

Sitting back on her haunches, she tore her inventory sheet in half and handed him one section. "If you would do a count of the top shelves, I will take care of the lower. When you are done with that half, we can swap sheets."

"Very well, Professor," he replied.

She turned back to the shelf she was working on and got on with her task, furiously keeping her thoughts in order. The next thirty minutes were spent working in the confined area in silence. They moved around each other like dancers, never touching and rarely acknowledging each other, but always incredibly aware of the other in a way that had never been there before. Hermione felt the hairs on her body rise up in waves whenever his eyes swept across her and tried to limit the number of times she stopped and gazed at his narrow build from behind. When it came time to swap sheets, they did so in silence, but his eyes had met hers for just a moment too long. They returned to the task, but the tension in the room escalated to the point that it became hard to breathe.

Hermione finally finished her sheet and grabbed onto the wall for support as she regained her legs with a soft groan. A hand on her elbow kept her from staggering sideways as her cramped muscles protested. Once she regained her balance, it was quickly removed.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape. Have you finished?" She thought she had done a good job of keeping her voice steady and pleasantly business-like, but could do nothing about her flushed and burning cheeks.

Again, he stared just a moment too long, his eyes skipping across her features in a way they never had before.

"The count is finished," he replied ambiguously, as he finally broke eye contact and handed her his torn half. Just as her hand closed on it, she saw the paper was trembling, just the slightest bit.

Her lips parted, and her eyes became heavy-lidded as she struggled to maintain control and leave the unspoken unacknowledged.

"Thank you," she said, hearing her own breathy voice as if from a great distance. "I will come back later and lock up."

She nodded to him, closing her eyes to escape the intensity, and then backed away and turned towards the door. She didn't look back as she hurried out of the lab and fled to the refuge of her empty quarters.

The next week, Snape rebuilt the shelves in the stockroom; they were a Potioneer's dream. She never saw him. He only worked during her class time.

The funds came through from the Ministry and, much to her surprise, Ron decided to join her as she went to resupply her stocks, with the proviso that they be able to stop at the Quidditch supply shop. They got on well enough, Ron actually helped her order and offered to carry some of her parcels, but they both had been distracted and distant. He had made a desultory offer to stop somewhere for dinner, and she had rewarded him by declining to his obvious relief. She restocked the shelves alone and took her own inventory.

Snape never resumed his self-imposed inventory duties. She saw him rarely after that and always from a distance. He seemed to know when she was watching and would either hurry off in another direction or turn and sneer at her in disdain.

She remained confused. Confused about her inconvenient feelings for the man. Confused about her motives. And still deeply confused about what it was that had hurt him so badly that he had violently lashed out in his room that day. The only thing she was sure of was that he had asked her to leave him alone.

So, she struggled to put him out of her mind, and he kept out of her sight. As spring finally conquered winter, it became easier to shut her feelings up in a box for the greater good.

She threw herself into her work, concentrating on NEWT and OWL revision and burying herself in essays and grading papers.

* * *

"Ah, there you are Professor Granger-Weasley. Have you seen your husband? I sent a message to him hours ago, and he has missed a meeting about hosting a Quidditch Exhibition here at the school."

"He's gone for the weekend, Headmistress. He left early this morning, and I don't expect him back until late tomorrow evening. He had a fishing trip planned with some friends."

"Again? He was gone from the castle last weekend and the weekend before that, as well. I say, everything is all right with you two, isn't it?"

"Yes, Headmistress. Everything is fine. Thank you for inquiring. That is very thorough of you; I wouldn't have expected that to be part of your duties."

"Everything that goes on in this school falls under the heading of my duties. You would do well to remember that in the future, Professor."

"I will, Ma'am."

"When you see your husband again, tell him I want to see him immediately upon his return. I'm not happy with all these jaunts away from his work."

"He has always been an active man, Headmistress, and I mean no offense, but he _is_ free to leave at the weekends if he isn't scheduled for any duties. So, I don't think he would be aware, in any way, of your displeasure."

"Yes, well. I don't like it. It looks like he's trying to run away all the time. Smacks of scandal. We have the Founders' Ball coming up, and he had better not miss that. If you see him, pass along my message."

* * *

"Founder's Ball? I forgot all about it! And I had plans that weekend!" Ron shouted.

"Yes, you seem to always have _plans_ these days," Hermione snapped. "You've had bloody _plans_ for the last month and a half now, haven't you? You'll just have to tell your _plans_ that you have an outstanding engagement that directly affects your continued employment!" Hermione turned on her heel and stormed off towards her room, slamming the door. A moment later she opened it again. "I told you Sinistra wants to see you immediately. That means _now_, you gormless pillock." Her head popped back into her room, and she slammed the door closed again.

Ron glared at the closed door before turning and stomping out of their quarters.

He stomped through the hallways, taking points from shocked students for doing things like walking too loudly. He had thought that once he had found a little freedom, he would have been able to deal with his everyday issues better. But that was not the case. Every moment in this castle was like another spike being driven into his brain. Even the students, with the exception of his own two, made him want to scream in frustration. Just looking at his wife after a weekend with Estella made him want to run screaming out of the castle and down towards the gates. And her little snide comments earlier…as if she was so clever, dropping hints like she knew what he was up to. How dare she act as if she had a right to be upset? If she hadn't been such a cold fish, then he wouldn't have strayed, would he?

Merlin be praised that the school year would be over soon. He had already hinted that he might be up for going off with the blokes for an extended trip, and she hadn't even batted an eyelash. As if she knew it was coming, well she bloody better, he'd be damned if he spent another eight weeks crammed into their house in Cumbria pretending everything was just fine. No, Ron had _plans_. He was going to take Estella off to America for at least four of those weeks. Since Quidditch wasn't as popular there, no one would recognize him. He would be free and wouldn't need any disgusting Polyjuice. He thought it was about time he let Estella in on his little secret. He couldn't wait to see her face when she realized who he really was.

As disgusting and inconvenient as the potion was, (and there had been some very inconvenient moments), he really felt like it had saved his sanity. These last few years had really taken their toll. Everything had seemed to be spinning out of his control. It was a good thing Snape had been there. He hated to think of what his life would have been like if fate hadn't delivered the git into his hands.

However, being gone for whole weekends had used up his stores faster than he had anticipated. Luckily, he had managed to start the stewing process for the lacewing flies just in time to ensure he was covered. Now on his third batch, he had gotten so good at it he didn't really need the greasy wanker anymore, but he wasn't going to tell him that. He'd started to enjoy the defeated look on the man's face. Ron never would have thought of himself as a malicious person, but something about that man got his back up every time he saw him. He found a curious pleasure in being able to best him, even if it was admittedly in a petty way. From the moment Snape had shown up at Hogwarts, Ron had wrestled to keep a lid on his active dislike. After all, Snape had served his time, and only needed to finish his bloody community service before he could fuck off to where ever he could find to hide. Ron understood that everyone deserved a chance once they had paid their debt. But it was an attitude that was becoming increasingly hard to maintain for some reason.

Ron headed towards Sinistra's office trying to figure out how to get out of having to be at the stupid ball. The idea of being seen next to his dowdy harridan of a wife after being with the young, beautiful, and limber Estella made him physically shudder. Sinistra loved him, surely she would take his side if he tactfully explained about his strained marriage.

"Cygnus," he said, as he reached the gargoyle. When it had jumped aside, he started up the stairs.

Forty minutes later the gargoyle jumped aside again, and a furious Ron pounded down the stairs.

He was incredulous at the gall of his bitch of a boss. And to think, he had always taken her side in each petty dispute into which he had been dragged. After everything he had done for this school, the idea that he would be read the riot act over the possible scandal his weekend jaunts away from his family would cause made his blood boil. It was a bloody good thing Ron hadn't brought up the state of his marriage. He had a feeling he would have been asked to leave right away, along with his wife. As much as Hermione was like a constant toothache, he wouldn't want her to have to lose her job. He still respected her. He just couldn't stand the sight of her.

His fury was all-consuming as he stomped down to the kitchens for a bit of comfort food. There was no way in hell he was missing that portkey to Italy in order to attend yet another stupid publicity stunt for that bitch instead. He searched his brain, trying to find a way to duplicate himself. He thought about that old family ghoul but he very much doubted the Spattergroit ruse would work a second time. He tickled the pear and stepped through into the kitchen and stopped short.

Snape was sitting at a table off to the side with a scone lifted halfway to his mouth, staring at him in surprise.

* * *

The candle burned down low in the small niche cut into the stone wall by the bed. The wick, with nothing left to give, started to dance, as its flame began to drown in the wax. The flickering light cast eerie shadows that chased across the worn table top, and the sturdy new stool. The small desk and matching dresser. The moth-eaten ottoman and its forlorn, threadbare chair. The wavering shadows danced across the bed, and the sad-faced man curled up in the corner, in his nightshirt. The man clutched all of his pillows tightly to his chest and stared at the candle with profound sympathy. With a last flare of brightness, the candle died, and there was nothing left but darkness and the sound of a quiet sob.

* * *

Looking around the empty hallway outside her office door, Hermione cast a chiming ward to alert her if anyone came near, before opening the door and striding through.

"Right, we're all here? Yes? Good."

She dropped her grading on the desk and sat down in her chair.

Above her on the wall, Albus, Minerva and Phineas were all crowded into the frame. After exchanging greetings, they got down to business.

"Any ideas?"

"No," replied Dumbledore's portrait. "But whatever it is, our boy is in a bad way."

"I agree," said Minerva. "Severus has been even more despondent in the last few days. None of the other portraits have seen anything."

"Have you talked with that elf?" Phineas asked Hermione.

"Yes, Winky doesn't know anything, other than the fact that he's taking all his meals in his rooms and not eating well. She also said that he isn't spending that much time wandering the castle in the middle of the night anymore."

"We're not any closer to finding out what's wrong," said Minerva with a sigh. "Let's review what we know again. Something happened back in the winter. We don't know what, but we do know that it was serious, and it made him more withdrawn and unsociable than before," she said.

"We know that it's connected with the girl here," added Phineas. "And we know it involves potions ingredients."

"And we know that he had reached a sort of equilibrium with whatever happened. Even though he remained withdrawn, he seemed resigned," said Minerva. "But then a few days ago he seemed to take a turn for the worse. Violet reported seeing him in the middle of the night standing and staring out the front doors like his best friend had died, and he's been damned near as nasty as he was when he was Headmaster."

Dumbledore piped up.

"Blackmail, I think. It's my opinion that he's being forced to do something he doesn't want to do."

"I think he's been stealing potions ingredients," said Phineas.

"But why?" asked Hermione. "He can't brew with his magic bound, and no one else in the castle is good enough to make any restricted potions."

"But he can be forced to advise," said Albus.

"It could be anyone," said Hermione.

"No," countered Minerva. "It could only be someone with something to hold over him."

"I say he's doing it to protect the girl," added Black.

"Do you think so?" asked Albus. "Perhaps the two things are not related. Severus might indeed have feelings for Hermione, but he might be avoiding her simply because she's married. He's an honorable man, after all."

"No, I think Headmaster Black is on to something," said Minerva. "Severus was never above dallying with a married woman before this. I think if he was just interested in Hermione for sex, he'd find a way to get her, unless he thought it would bring her harm. There must be another complication that we haven't considered."

Hermione, Phineas and Albus all had identical expressions of surprise.

"Oh, please," sniffed Minerva. "Surely you knew he had indulged in a past dalliance with Narcissa Malfoy, Albus."

"I hadn't thought it had gone quite that far," he said. "It adds a bit of insight to her asking him to take that Vow."

"Well, it's not like they had any kind of torrid affair. I believe it was more of a convenient, mutual revenge on her husband, but perhaps it did play into the Vow as well."

Hermione blushed. It was just too strange to be sitting here, casually discussing Severus' sex life.

"Well," said Black. "Whatever has been going on, I would say the pressure on our former Headmaster has increased." He looked at Hermione. "Keep your potion supplies locked and warded at all times and be particularly vigilant for signs of tampering."

"They have been since they were restocked, both my stores and the student closet. No one has been near them outside of class time, and my inventories are spot on."

"Well, all we can do is keep our eyes and ears open then," said Albus.

* * *

It was two weeks later when Hermione closed up her office and hurried through the castle, slurping on a mug of coffee. She had missed breakfast trying to get as much paperwork done as possible before the guests for the ball arrived and turned the school on its ear, so she was making coffee a meal on the go. Some of the invitees had arrived last night and were already installed in the guest quarters. She needed to drop off some notes in the lab and then race back upstairs to grab her cloak and purse so she could go shopping with Ginny. Conflicted about the whole matter of playing dress-up and making nice with Ron in public, she had put off purchasing a gown for the ball until the last possible moment. The ball was tonight and Ginny had taken pity on her and was going with her to buy something off the rack at Madam Malkin's.

She moved with as much dignity as she could muster while almost running down the stairs and hall towards her lab. Taking a turn too fast, she almost lost her footing and let out a whoop before grabbing the wall and spilling coffee on herself. She looked around to see if anyone had caught her moment of gracefulness and found herself staring at Severus standing a few feet away, his hands still up as if to catch her. They both were frozen as if hit by a spell, simply staring at each other. It had been almost a month since they had been this close, and even then it was a fleeting moment. He had worn his customary angry scowl when he had caught her looking at him. But now there was no scowl, they had both been taken by surprise, and their faces reflected unguarded emotion. Hermione watched, mesmerized as his face shifted from surprised concern, to that dreaded horrified guilt, and finally to his perpetual sneer in the space of a few painful heartbeats. She was sure her face reflected her feelings just as plainly.

His hands dropped to his sides, and he nodded to her almost cordially.

"Good morning Professor," he said stiffly, and then, just like that, he was gone around the corner.

Hermione blew all of the air out of her lungs and pressed a hand to her chest to try and stop the ache. Setting her shoulders, she hit her robes with a spell to clean them off and continued on towards her lab.

She left her notes on her desk, quickly checked the stasis spells on several projects that were going to have to sit until tomorrow, and then locked everything up and headed to her quarters. She usually didn't bother locking her entire lab but Slughorn had been one of the people planning to spend the weekend and had shown up last night. He had a tendency to poke his nose into her business. Fond as she was of her former teacher, he never seemed to get the message that she didn't have to seek his approval for all of her projects whenever he was around.

She raced back up through the castle, starting to get winded, and as she came around the corner, ended up face to face with Severus again. She was so surprised to see him again so soon that she simply stood there. He had been barreling along, not looking where he was going, and when he saw her at the last minute, he had pulled up and stumbled.

"Mr. Snape?" she said reaching out a hand to steady him.

"Get off!" he hissed and stormed away.

She followed him and stopped at the corner to watch him as he made his way down the stairs.

She entered her quarters and saw Ron was sitting at the table looking through his grade book, something he rarely did. He whipped around to look at her when she came in.

"Hey," she said as she headed for her room while unbuttoning her robes: they still smelled like coffee, and there were easier things to get on and off if she was going to be trying on robes. "Gin's here already, and Harry will be along in a couple of hours. We're leaving soon. Is there anything you want from Diagon Alley?" She pulled her robes off and tossed them into the hamper, slipping on a simple skirt and loose top. "Ron?" She changed shoes and grabbed her cloak. She narrowed her eyes and stomped back out into the sitting room.

"Are you deaf or just being a prat? You'll find I'm not really in the mood for either one," she snapped as she came to a stop in front of him with her hands on her hips. Ron had jumped up as she came closer and was looking at her with something akin to fear. He rubbed his wrist nervously.

"My voice is gone," he rasped. She made a moue of surprise and pushed him to sit. He resisted, but she just narrowed her eyes at him, and he complied.

"When did it start? Have you taken anything?"

"A short while ago and, no," he replied.

She pulled her wand from her hair.

"Open," she said.

He scowled at her.

"Leave me be," he said.

"Oh, cut the martyr act, Ronald. I don't have time. Open your mouth, and let me see."

He blinked and opened his mouth.

"Lumos," she whispered. "Well your throat is very raw, that's for sure. Do you have any other symptoms? Fever? Chills?" she asked, while flicking her wand through some diagnostic spells.

"No, just my throat."

Hermione looked at the results of her spells and tsked.

"Good heavens, Ron. You've eaten rasping nettles! How did you do that and not notice?" She canceled the spell and stepped back, hands on her hips. "With the way you eat, I'm surprised you haven't accidentally eaten the tableware. Honestly." She stomped off to her bathroom and snatched up some healing potions from the cabinet. Coming back into the room she handed them to him. "This will help with the pain, but your voice will be shot for two days. Do you think you might have been the victim of a student prank? I wouldn't be surprised with the way you run around acting like one of them."

He didn't answer her, just drank down the potions and set the vials on the table. He sat there looking at her and rubbing his wrist.

"Is something wrong with your hand?" she asked.

He looked startled, and his hands flew apart. He clenched them and stood up.

"No, I'm fine. Leave off," he said before pushing past her and heading for his room.

"Fine, then. Just remember to meet Harry later, and make sure you're done with the shower before I get back," she shouted at him before he closed the door.

Pocketing her purse, she donned her cloak and left.

*

Standing in the small room that was obviously a wardrobe with an extending charm, Severus Snape let out a ragged breath as he listened to the door close behind her, rubbing at the place his cuff had been for sixteen years. He worried at it like a loose tooth, as the reality of what he was about to go through settled on him like a shroud.

* * *

*

Oh yeah, it's about to get a lot more complicated...

Reviews are the stuff of life...


	8. Applied Therapy

**AN:** Thank you to all my girls, **Hebe GB**, **Dressagegrrrl **and **Whitehound**, for helping to make this chapter the fabu piece of art, you have been waiting for!

A quick, comment on Rasping Nettles: according to canon, Polyjuice Potion does not change a person's voice. When said person has a distinctive voice, measures must be taken. Also, I would like to praise the observant readers who noticed Hermione wasn't particularly herself, either. Good job. Bwuahahaha! *koff*

**AN2:** I should have betas for my Author's Notes. I meant to say 'in the movies' PolyJuice doesn't affect the voice. I chose to disguise his voice because of this to avoid confusing those who didn't read the books, but only succeeded in irritating those that have. Thanks to the readers that caught my blooper.

* * *

Ginny was almost lost in the horde of young Weasley children: Ron's, George's, Bill's, Percy's and her own three Potters. They made a noisy cluster of mostly ginger-haired hooligans, and she loved them to bits and tried to listen to all of them as they vied with each other, trying to tell her the latest exciting news. The school year was winding down, and they were full of ideas for how to spend the summer.

"Line up for love!" She heard Hermione's customary shout and turned to see her coming down the front steps of the school. All the kids scrambled to get into order by height, and Lily pouted a bit as Hugo puffed out his chest and walked to the other side of her for the first time. Hermione started with the tallest and worked her way to the shortest, Lily, grabbing them all by the cheeks and pecking them on the forehead with a constant litany of _'I Love you, I love you, I love you,'_ as she kissed each one.

She finished with Ginny, giving her the same treatment, to the amusement of the children.

"Sorry I'm late. Ron got himself poisoned."

"Is he okay?" Ginny asked with concern.

"Yeah, he's lost his voice for a couple of days, but that's all. Somehow he managed to eat some rasping nettle and didn't notice. I think it must have been a prank. Sinistra's going to love the fact that he won't be able to schmooze her beautiful people. Come to think of it, he's always been rubbish at non-verbal magic. He might have more problems than I thought."

Ginny tutted in sympathy before she turned back to the kids.

"We're off now. Be good!" Ginny called out. Albus and Lily came over for last hugs, but James was busy explaining a flying maneuver and just waved.

"Oh, dear," she said with a mock sigh. "He's too cool to kiss his mum now."

Hermione laughed, and the two of them turned and headed off to go shopping.

* * *

Ginny watched her friend dig through the first rack she saw with no enthusiasm whatsoever. They had been through the entire stock of Madam Malkin's and moved on to Boudicca's Boutique. Taking a deep breath for luck, she walked over and laid her hand on top of Hermione's, stopping its motion.

"What's going on?" she said gently. "You know you can tell me anything, Hermione. Is it Ron?"

Hermione's head came up, and she stared at her friend.

"Hermione, I'm not psychic. It's just obvious that you've been miserable for a few years now, and the one time I asked Ron about it he practically took my head off. I've been waiting for you to come to me, but I really don't think you ever will. I'm going out on a limb here and coming to you. You seem especially depressed today. Talk to me."

Hermione pressed her lips together, but couldn't stop the tears from filling her eyes. She wiped them away furiously and got a grip on herself. She took a deep breath and then looked at her sister-in-law and tilted her chin up defiantly.

"Ron's got another woman."

Ginny reeled as if struck.

"Oh gods, Hermione! I'm so sorry!"

"I'm not," she said, pointedly. "I'm only sorry he's being a complete idiot about it and making it so obvious that we both might lose our jobs."

Ginny blinked.

"How long has it been going on?" she asked.

Hermione rubbed at her eyes.

"Only the last few months. Really, Gin. I'm not surprised. We've been miserable for years. Merlin, I don't know when we weren't miserable. I give him credit for holding out this long. I'm actually jealous that he gets to go off and have fun and I don't. Does that make me wrong?"

Ginny pulled her friend into a hug.

"Well, it makes you a bit weird, I won't lie. He's betrayed you. He's betrayed your trust and your vows. I don't see how you can be so calm."

"Well, I'm no princess either. No, I haven't cheated on him. I wouldn't do that. But I can't say I'm an angel either. I tried, I really did. For years. But it seems lately I can't help being a complete bitch to him. I've got him sleeping in a wardrobe now and I even swiped his new bedroom furniture and gave it to Mr. Snape when I saw they gave him nothing but castoffs and garbage. I swear, sometimes I don't know what's going through my head. I'm not an easy person to live with, I guess. I don't really blame him for finally looking for someone else."

Ginny gave her a long, appraising stare. "I guess no one ever really sees what's going on inside a marriage. It sounds like both of you have been acting a little strange. Who's to say what's right and wrong here, eh? I think, perhaps, the stress of the marriage might be affecting your judgment. Both of you." She rubbed her back. "You know, even though you were both miserable, I'm still shocked that Ron would do something like that. It doesn't sound like something he'd be capable of. It's just not the way we were raised. Dad would kill him if he knew. I would have thought you two would get a divorce first."

Hermione pulled back, and her eyes were a little wild.

"We can't! There's too much to lose!" She sighed. "We're both trapped. He just found a way out at the weekends."

"How are you trapped?"

"Sinistra's crazy about scandal. She's already sticking her nose in and asking pointed questions. If we were to split up, she would sack us both just because of the press coverage. And the children! Gods, it would be a nightmare for them! And then--"

She blinked and looked at Ginny with sadness.

"Then?" Ginny encouraged.

"I don't want to lose your family," she whispered. "Molly and Arthur would be devastated, and I can't hurt them like that."

Ginny nodded her head in understanding.

"Because being a Weasley is everything to you, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded and started to weep quietly.

"I always wanted to be part of a big family. And you guys are my magical family."

Ginny folded the taller woman back into her arms

"You know, for such a smart witch, you can be incredibly dim. It must be from all those years of putting up with my brother.

"You won't lose anyone, Hermione. Everyone sees that the two of you are unhappy, even Mum and Dad. As for the kids, didn't you see how many protectors they had earlier? Who would be stupid enough to say anything to Rose or Hugo? Besides cousins, they have the Longbottom boys. Luna's twins start next year. Good grief, they have their extended tribe to watch over them. As for your job, I can't help you there. What if Ron were to just get a job somewhere else, and when the furor died down, you just quietly divorce and not make it public?"

"That would take tact. Ron doesn't understand the concept. Honestly, Ginny, he's been so unbelievably obvious about it, I'm surprised the papers haven't picked it up. I knew within the first two weeks by the way he kept looking at me. Half the time, he seemed to be expecting me to point and start screaming, and the other half he looked so bloody guilty I wanted to smack him. Once he got into the groove, he didn't even bother to shower off her cheap perfume. He goes flying out the door after dinner on Friday, and slinks in at the last moment on Sunday, and then sulks and pouts all through the week. Sinistra started asking questions a couple of weeks back. He's so gormless, I wouldn't put it past him to have invited his tart to the Founder's Ball tonight."

Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"He wouldn't."

"Who knows what the hell he would do?"

Ginny turned her head to the racks of clothes.

"That's why you haven't been able to pick something. You don't know who to dress for." Ginny looked around the shop and then back at Hermione with a devilish gleam in her eyes. "Well, then. If we aren't dressing for an occasion we care about, then let's dress for combat. Picture yourself dressing up for some tall, dark, and handsome Wizard and dress for him, your imaginary lover. If Ron is stupid enough to bring his tart, let him get a good, long look at what he's tossing away."

She led Hermione over to where the more costly robes and gowns were.

"How much were you planning on spending?"

"Around fifty galleons at the most."

"Fine, if we go over it, I'll cover it and consider it your early birthday present."

The saleswitch who had been watching them came floating over when she saw they were ready to get on with the business of shopping.

"May I help you ladies?"

"Yes, my friend would like to see anything you have in--What color?"

Hermione let loose a wicked smile.

"Amber," she said.

"Oh, lovely choice," the saleswitch said.

* * *

Snape stood in Hermione's shower as the hot water beat down on him and wanked furiously. The memory of Hermione carelessly unbuttoning her robes in front of him changed to images of her peeling off her clothes, and then looking at him over her creamy white shoulder, and beckoning him to follow her into the bedroom. He had already perused the contents of her lingerie drawer, and so he had no trouble picturing what else she had on underneath. He closed his eyes, letting his fantasy play out until he spilled himself and collapsed against the wall as the water poured over him.

He looked down at Ronald Weasley's rod and tackle and smirked. No wonder the witch was unhappy. He pushed off from the wall and grabbed a bottle of shampoo but closed it again when he smelled the almond and citrus scent. That was hers. He replaced it and grabbed the other bottle. It had an overpowering, spicy musk that offended his nose; he used it.

He realized that he was spending too much time lathering his wrist and scowled. He needed to stop doing that. It was a dead give-away. His cuff was not visible nor tangible, the wrist smooth to the touch, but he could still feel it in his mind, like a phantom limb. It was there. His magic was still blocked. Another time, he would have been fascinated by the strange physics involved that would make his cuff disappear in the same way Barty Crouch Jr.'s leg and eye had. Instead, he growled in frustration.

Hearing a ping he stuck his head out of the shower and looked at the watch lying on the sink. He hurriedly finished his shower and jumped out, reaching for a towel. Drying off quickly, he wrapped the towel around his hips, snatched up the watch and hurried back to the other room to drink more Polyjuice Potion.

He reached for the dress robes hanging on the back of the door and laid them across the bed before turning to the cheap second-hand chest-of-drawers and indulging in an evil smile. He rifled through drawers until he found the Maggot's collection of socks and pants, all y-fronts, and proceeded to dress.

Weasley should have reverted by now and was probably sneaking out of the castle at that very moment. Snape hoped that the idiot hadn't done anything to call attention to himself while in Snape's guise. He had been under orders to go straight to the room they had used for brewing and stay there until the Polyjuice wore off.

Snape contemplated refusing to go through with this again and felt the accompanying discomfort in his chest. Obviously, the life debt wasn't considered cleared. He was trapped until the price of his life was paid. He grimaced at the irony that his life held so much value now, when it never had before.

He looked at his loathsome reflection in the mirror and drew in a deep breath to try and calm himself.

Wanking had been therapeutic. His anxiety level had gone down slightly, but mostly he had relieved himself because it was necessary. He was supposed to be Ron, and Ron didn't sport a hard-on whenever his wife came within three feet. Hopefully, he could retain his decorum and his dignity since his needs had already been seen to, so to speak.

He had considered stealing some appropriate ingredients that, when ingested would have solved the problem for the duration of the weekend, if not a month. However, he was loath to break his promise to himself not to steal from her again. She hadn't noticed he had changed her figures for certain ingredients when he had helped her take stock for Sinistra. But then again, that evening in the supply closet had been so pregnant with sexual tension, neither of them would've noticed if the school had collapsed. It had been a simple matter of making the Maggot see reason when Snape had insisted he accompany his wife on her shopping trip so that he could pocket the extra stock from the Apothecary. The Maggot got his ingredients from a reputable source, purchased with a valid license, and paid for by a bureaucracy famous for its inattention to detail. Weasley had gotten hold of the invoice and brought it back for Snape to change back to her original figures. He should have enough to last him six more months if he was wise. Which he wasn't.

Snape finished dressing and was standing in front of the mirror, trying to push the horrid ginger hair into an approximation of the style usually favored by the Maggot. He looked ridiculous. The robes were a preposterous shade of red with gray trim in honor of his former team. If ever there was a shade of red that went with ginger hair, surely this wasn't it. He plucked at a sleeve, trying to set the cuff and wondering where the fool found such a hideous tailor.

He was disturbed by a chime announcing someone outside the door. Snape slipped the fake wand that Ron had supplied from his brother's shop into his sleeve, slipped the full flask of Polyjuice into an inside pocket, and went to answer the door. Potter stood before him, smartly dressed in formal robes. He took a deep breath and commenced being Ronald Weasley.

"Harry, I was just on my way to meet you," he rasped out.

"Blimey, Ron. What happened to your voice?"

Snape considered what sort of response the Maggot would give and decided to err on the side of dunderheaded.

"Dunno."

"Merlin, you sound like a ghoul. Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, H--Mione gave me some potions. I'll be alright."

"Well, if that's the case we'd better get out of here. The girls will be back soon, and they'll need to get changed. We don't want to be around while they're getting ready," he said knowingly. Snape thought differently, but gave what he hoped was a smile reminiscent of the Brotherhood of Oppressed Husbands and nodded.

They set off to the Great Hall to meet up with the other early arrivals. Potter waved and chatted at the passing students, and Snape had to adjust his gait when he saw he was outstripping him. Walking amiably along was not in his repertoire of skills.

"Have you seen Snape?" Potter asked when they were relatively isolated.

Snape gave him a sharp look, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look; I know you don't like him. I was just asking because I went looking for him and couldn't find him. I like to check in on him now and again and thought we might be able to have a bit of a chat. Winky said he was up on this floor somewhere."

"I believe he had some repairs or a project or something," said Snape. "He usually lays low during these things. He doesn't like to be seen."

"Oh? You've been talking to him then?"

Snape cursed himself.

"A bit. Here and there, you know?"

Snape stopped as Potter grabbed his arm.

"Ron, that's great! I'm glad you're finally coming around. I told you he wasn't that bad. One more person being nice to him around here would do him a lot of good. Hermione said he's been pretty down lately. That's why I wanted to check in with him. He only has to make it until December and he's free. I don't like to think of him falling into despair just when the end is so close."

Snape ripped his arm away from Potter's grasp.

"I didn't say I liked him, just that we've spoken," he snapped.

Potter looked at him with what felt distinctly like pity and disgust.

"Right. Why would I have thought you'd see reason after all these years," he said before turning and walking away.

Snape caught up with him, and they continued in silence. He found it interesting that he had been the cause of friction between Potter and Weasley all these years. He pondered that bit of news and then filed it away.

"Uncle Harry!"

They stopped and waited for Rose and Victoire, Bill Weasley's daughter. She was a fifth year, if Snape remembered correctly.

"You look smashing, Uncle Harry!" said Rose as she leaned up to give Potter a kiss on the cheek. "When did you get here?"

Potter gave Victoire a hug.

Snape panicked wondering if he was required to hug the children, but saw that they didn't even bother. They just smiled at him. It made sense; they saw Weasley every day. He just stood there and smiled pleasantly as they chatted away with their uncle. Rose gave him an odd look, and he tilted his head at her in question. She smiled and looked at her feet. Snape suspected that standing quietly by while Harry enjoyed a chat with his nieces was unusual behavior for Ron but was unsure of what to do.

A flurry of motion caught his eye, and he saw Hermione and Ginevra Potter coming up the stairs burdened with several bags. They looked like they had bought out all of Diagon Alley between them.

"Did you get another new dress too, Gin?" Potter asked.

"No, this is all for Hermione. We had a bit of fun." Snape didn't know how to take the defiant look Hermione was shooting him, or the angry, challenging one he was getting from Ginevra. He cleared his throat and said hoarsely: "I'm sure it will all be worth it."

Obviously that was the wrong thing to say because now Hermione, Ginevra, and even young Rose were all staring at him like he had grown a new head. Potter was looking at him oddly as well.

"What?" he snapped.

"Dad, what's wrong with your voice?" asked Rose.

Snape squirmed under her worried gaze and looked at Hermione.

"Your father ate something he shouldn't have, darling. He'll be talking like that for a day or so, but other than that he's fine."

The young girl came and put her arms around him and he looked down at her, wondering what he was supposed to do. He settled for patting her shoulder.

"I'm fine, Kitten," he said, remembering the Maggot's pet name for his daughter. She squeezed him harder and stepped back.

Switching all her bags to one arm, Hermione stepped up and ran a hand through his hair, twitching it into place with a few quick touches. Being on this side of the exchange, Snape discovered that these weren't the little touches granted by a loving wife, but the disapproving censure of a woman trying not to be embarrassed by her husband in public.

"Don't you think you should get ready?" he whispered to her. "There's plenty of time for you to disapprove of me later."

She gave him a curious look.

"Are you alright?" she placed a hand against his forehead, and he jumped.

"I admit…I am not myself," he replied.

"I wonder if that's a side effect of the nettles. Do you have any new symptoms?"

He shook his head.

"I'm a bit disoriented, but that seems to be all," he replied. Staring into her eyes this openly was something he had not been able to indulge in, and he saw tiny gold flecks around her irises drowning amongst all that amber.

Hermione's brows came together, and she stepped back.

"Well, if anything else comes up, make sure you get to Poppy," she said dismissively. She settled her bags.

"Can we come with you, Aunt Hermione?" asked Victoire.

"Sure, but you can't stay. You'll have to get back to your common rooms for dinner tonight."

The ladies headed off with their nieces in tow. Snape watched them for a moment before turning back towards Potter.

"What was all that?" he asked.

"All what?"

"That staring thing with Hermione."

"Is there something wrong with me looking at my wife?"

"No, I guess not. I just never saw you do it quite like that before."

"As I said, I'm not feeling myself," Snape replied stiffly.

"Fine. Let's go see about helping out with the decorations."

Snape refrained from sneering as the two headed down to the hall.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" hissed Ginny in Hermione's ear as the girls walked ahead to Hermione's quarters.

"I don't know," she whispered back.

"I've never seen him look at you that way before."

"Believe me, in fifteen years of marriage, I've never seen that look before either. I think someone must have given him something more than rasping nettles."

"You don't think he's trying to put Harry and I off the scent, do you? Make us think things are all wonderful so we don't suspect?"

"He's not that good an actor," Hermione replied.

They rounded the corner and followed the girls to her rooms.

"What if he's trying to make up with you? What if he's had some kind of epiphany?"

Hermione stopped short.

"Oh, gods, do you think?"

"Well, it's a thought," Ginny replied.

Hermione looked down at the bags full of the gown and cloak and shoes and accessories she had gone berserk buying, as well as the skin and hair creams that Ginny had bought for her and suddenly felt foolish. She hadn't bought them so Ron would find her attractive. She had bought them with someone else in mind completely. What would she do if Ron _did_ find her attractive? Did she even _want_ to fix things?

* * *

Reviews are like a box of chocolates. Or something.


	9. Wear It Like You Mean It

**AN: **Thank you to, **Dressagegrrl** for Comma Check, **Whitehound **for Brit Check and **Hebe GB** for Sanity Check. (checks AN to see if it's screwed up. No? Good. Off we go!)

This is not the chapter you want, it is the chapter you need...

* * *

Snape slipped outside and leaned against the wall just to get some peace before the guests started to arrive. As if impersonating Weasley wasn't enough stress on its own, he'd had to put up with Sinistra who, in a pique of nervous irritation, read him the riot act for daring to be under the weather during one of her fêtes. His inability to help her with the preparations was passed off as a side effect of being voiceless. Flitwick and Sprout had almost made him vomit with their fawning concern and overbearing kindness over his supposed malady interfering with Sinistra's needs. He had been forced to bear their censure since his return and having them look at him with warm smiles was more than he could endure. Flitwick especially had been driving him to distraction with his not-so-amusing anecdotes about decorating the Hall this afternoon. Snape had nearly pulled muscles in his face trying not to sneer at his ex-colleague. Snape had always held Flitwick in a certain amount of esteem and could forgive the man for his truculence while he had been headmaster. But the little shit had had fifteen years to get accustomed to the truth of Snape's life during that time, and he still preferred to believe the worst because Snape had knocked him out rather than let the midget dash into danger when the Death Eaters had attacked the school.

He sighed. Perhaps he would not be quite so highly strung if he wasn't angry at himself for nearly giving the game away when Hermione had walked up and touched him. He was never going to get through this night. She was upstairs right this moment, making herself even more beautiful than she was every day, and unless he managed to get his pathetic libido under control the very idea might kill him.

His timer pinged on the watch he had the Maggot charm for his ears only. He moved down the steps and out onto the lawn, looking for a secluded place to take another dose. He walked toward a cluster of trees and under the overhanging branches of a weeping willow. He leaned against the trunk and pulled out his flask and took a swig. He was reaching for his pack of mints to disguise the smell when a voice interrupted him.

"What are you drinking, Dad?" Snape whirled around, seeing no one, and then looked up.

"Hello, Hugo'" he said, when he spotted Hermione's son perched above. "It's medicine for my throat." They looked at each other in mutual discomfort. It occurred to Snape that he had seen the boy give his father this exact look a few times before. He also noticed that the boy was rather high up in the tree, and Snape had a memory of him not being good with heights. "Aren't you a little high up?" he asked in honest curiosity.

Hugo looked at him.

"Yes. Does your throat hurt a lot?"

"No. Are you going to tell me why you are up there, young man?"

"It seemed like the perfect place to hide. Are you hiding from the party?"

"Yes. What good is a hiding place if you can't get back down?"

"None, I suppose."

After this rapid exchange they paused and took stock of each other.

"I assume you're stuck. The bell for dinner was fifteen minutes ago."

"I am."

"I assume you expect me to use a spell to get you down."

"If you would."

Snape sighed.

"Remind me how much quality time we've spent doing _outdoorsy_ things."

"Not much."

"So you don't know much about climbing trees besides how to go up, correct?"

"I think that would sum the situation up well."

"Right."

Snape took a deep breath and then started climbing up the tree while Hugo looked on with enormous eyes. When he reached the same level, he stopped and collected his breath.

"Alright, then. Turn around and face the trunk and put your right foot here. Do you see?"

Hugo struggled to make the maneuver with one hand still grasping his book.

"For Merlin's sake, boy, put the book in a pocket," Snape hissed.

He steadied the child as they backed down from the tree, keeping him from slipping and guiding his footholds.

"Now hold on, and I'll go first." Snape dropped out of the tree and reflexively shook his head to get hair out of the way, but of course it wasn't there. He looked up to see the frightened boy clinging to the branches.

He reached up on his toes and plucked the boy out of the tree and set him on the ground. He stepped back and looked down at the state of his robes.

"Your mother's going to kill me," he muttered.

Hugo pulled out his wand and cleaned off the robes and fixed a tear near his knee.

"Thank you, Hugo. That was most kind. Come. You need to get back to your common room. They should still be having dinner."

"Thanks, Dad."

They walked back along the lawn towards the front doors to the castle.

"How did you end up hiding in a tree? Were you being chased?"

"No, James started a game of Hide and Seek. When it was my turn, I thought if I hid in the tree, no one would ever think to look there because they all know I'm afraid of heights. I was using their assumptions against them."

Snape looked at the boy with new respect.

"That was rather Slytherin of you."

The boy's eyes grew large and he looked worried.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Snape scowled.

"Cunning has its place," he snapped before he remembered who he was supposed to be. "Your mother can tell you more about that." Merlin, what was he doing even talking to the boy?

Snape stopped speaking, and they walked up to the tower in peace. Hugo pulled his book back out of his pocket. As they headed up the stairs, Snape reached over and plucked the book out of the boy's hand to read the title.

"Isn't Libatius Borage a bit much for a first-year?" he asked.

Hugo snatched the book back defensively and Snape realized that the Maggot must twit his son about his academic bent fairly often. He should have continued to harass him on the subject, but didn't have the heart. That dynamic struck a little too close to home, so they just continued on in silence.

When they had almost reached the entrance, Hugo stopped and thanked him very politely and then gave the Fat Lady the password. However, before he could scramble through the entrance, Snape stopped him.

"Hugo, I want your word that you won't try any of the potions in that book without your mother being present."

Hugo stopped and gave him a strange look, and Snape cursed himself for his foolishness. The boy smiled.

"I promise…Dad."

Snape nodded and then turned and left.

Hugo watched the man walking away with a speculative expression.

* * *

Hermione had sent Ginny on ahead to meet Harry, mostly because she needed a moment to collect her nerves. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at herself. Her dress was a long silk sheath in a dark, warm amber that matched her eyes perfectly. It had a modified halter top with folds of material that swagged gracefully across her chest and led up to two wide, topaz-encrusted ribbons that draped over her shoulders to fall loose to the floor. The illusion was if one ribbon slipped off her shoulder, the dress would fall. It was, however, charmed not to do so. Another strategic charm gave her a little extra lift and support up top since foundation garments were out of the question with the deep scoop on the back. Her hair was a glossy cascade of curls pulled up on one side with a golden hair comb that glittered with amber-colored stones. On her feet, she had a pair of silk, closed-toe sandals that came to a sharp point, encrusted with matching stones and adorned with cushioning charms for her own sanity. Her wand was hidden under the skirt of her dress, strapped to her calf by a matching garter.

She was beautiful, too beautiful, and it scared the hell out of her.

She had chosen this dress for Severus. Stupid, she knew, but that's what she had done. There was no way he could see this dress and miss her message--unspoken, unacknowledged, and all that other rot. She admitted now that she might have gone a little overboard. Hearing that he had once had a liaison with Narcissa Malfoy, a woman of uncommon, if cold, beauty, had been a bit of a blow to her ego and Hermione feared she was staring at a reflection of extreme overcompensation. She prayed that Severus would disappear for the night as he always did during these events. She was very uncomfortable with her visible lack of maturity.

She had assumed she would be on her own for the evening, and thus, free to live in her own head, imagining what Severus would say. But after that strange look in Ron's eyes earlier, a new fear had settled. If he honestly was interested in working things out then what message did this dress send? And did she want that? If she had a chance to start all over again with Ron, should she take it? The answer was: yes. If only for the kids. She wasn't fooling herself. If he wanted to work things out, there would be some unpleasant conversations in their future, but Hermione thought there was a good chance she could forgive him for sleeping with other women. She had a pretty realistic assessment of just how miserable they had been, and how much culpability could be laid at both of their feet. If she was going to try, she would have to give up her feelings for Severus. Trying to work out the disaster of her marriage while secretly pining for another man was just not the done thing. She would commit herself one hundred percent. Her hand came up and rested on her belly as she wrestled with the sick feeling in her stomach at the thought.

With one last look in the mirror, she left her quarters thinking about just how badly she was deluding herself based on one look from Ron. But it _had_ been a hell of a look. Only one other person had ever looked at her with such intensity. She pressed her hand to her belly again.

* * *

Snape came down the stairs at a fast clip. It was time to meet Hermione, and he was running a bit behind. He wanted to find a suitable place from which he could first observe her without an audience, but it was too late now. There was no avoiding the small crowd of people that greeted him warmly. He took a deep breath to center himself. His complete lack of self control before was inexcusable. He was not here to moon over another man's wife; he was supposed to keep anyone from noticing the Maggot had done a bunk. If he did something else foolish to cause any more undue speculation, he might get himself thrown back into Azkaban.

He moved into the crowd of early guests loitering at the entrance to the Great Hall. His reflexes were telling him to turn and run, but he forced them down and pasted an idiotic smile on his face and started to make his greetings. He greeted several members of the extended Weasley clan and their wives smoothly enough that he detected no strange looks or speculative glances. He greeted the people he didn't recognize with the same degree of smile because he wasn't sure until they spoke how well he was supposed to know them. He deftly asked leading questions until they revealed enough of a relationship for him to understand how to operate, explaining any lapses with the same excuse: a bit of food poisoning had ruined his voice and left him muzzy-headed. He swallowed a growl and strode over to greet Neville Longbottom and his wife. It seemed he had married the Abbott chit. Snape hadn't been surprised to find out Longbottom had taken the Herbology position, only that he'd had enough intelligence to resign when Sinistra began her pathetic climb to fame.

Slughorn greeted him with the same strained bonhomie that he had gratingly greeted him with last night when he had found him snooping around in the dungeons. Snape was amused to know that Weasley barely made it onto the list of people with whom Slughorn deemed worth associating. Obviously Weasley was afforded a certain recognition because he was famous; Snape only rated because he was now _infamous._

"Ah, there's my little apprentice! Hermione dear, how are you?" Snape clenched his jaw and breathed deeply through his nose before turning and giving his 'wife' a tepid smile. The smile froze on his face when he saw her. He had been running through this scenario over and over all afternoon, trying to school his reaction into the bored resentment Weasley would have displayed and was glad for the practice. _Remember you hate her. _She looked nervous, cheeks flushed and body a little too stiff. _Remember you hate her. _She was beautiful. _Remember you hate her. _She looked like a fairy queen. _Remember you hate her. _She was wearing…amber. _Remember you hate her. _

Her dress looked like it would slither off her body with just a touch_._ She had obviously taken great pains with her attire this evening, and Snape found himself almost angry that she would do so for her arse of a husband. One would have thought she would have tried to at least match what the Maggot had planned. But perhaps that tradition was a conceit of pureblood society with which she wasn't familiar. Or perhaps she was. His memory provided the fact that she had established an apparently cordial relationship with Black's portrait, whom he knew from experience would have nattered on ad nauseum about the proprieties and traditions of pureblood society. In which case, her choice of attire _was_ a message. Oh, Merlin, the woman had dressed for another man, a man who preferred the color amber. Snape cursed the fair skin that flamed up red in his cheeks as he realized just who that would be. _Remember you…don't want her._

As she moved away from Slughorn and came closer, reflex caused him to try and drop his gaze and let his hair hide his expression. She never even looked at him. Instead she went straight to Longbottom and his wife. Staying in character with a vengeance, Snape turned his back on her and started up a conversation with Ignacia Blatwort, an alumna and researcher in the Department of Mysteries. As he engaged in the sort of banal conversation that would normally make him want to claw someone's eyes out, his entire being was centered around the beautiful woman mingling with the other guests behind him.

His earlier ministrations were obviously completely ineffective as he felt himself start to strangle in the damned y-fronts. At least he wasn't poking out in the front. It occurred to him that it would be utterly in keeping with the Maggot to simply reach down and adjust himself, but it was hard to break with a lifetime of good manners. When Blatwort's attention shifted elsewhere, he shoved a hand in his pocket and shifted, as discretely as possible. He glanced over at Hermione, face schooled to indifference, just as she turned and gave him a frosty smile. Obviously she was used to bad manners but was somewhat mollified by his attempt at discretion.

The babbling murmur of those assembled rose in volume; movement towards the doors told him that the fête was underway. Guests sought out their partners for the evening as they began to enter the Great Hall. Snape turned towards Hermione with a gesture and was rewarded by her gliding over to his side. She didn't take his arm, but he had seen the two of them go through enough doorways that he didn't hesitate to place his hand possessively on the small of her back. Her warm, silky, smooth, naked back. She turned her head quickly and looked at him with a startled confusion only visible in her eyes. So, she had felt it too. Like a subtle electricity that flowed from the pads of his fingertips to the lusciousness of her flesh. He returned a blank look.

He struggled to keep his every action proper and in character as his body lit up from hair to toes with awareness of _her_. He needed to put some distance between them as quickly as possible. There was no way he would be able to maintain any kind of close proximity and pull off indifference.

The Great Hall was decorated as usual for these trite events. The long tables had vanished, replaced by smaller round ones draped in white linen and covered in candles and flowers. Fairy lights glittered throughout the hall, but were concentrated in the air just above the area designated for dancing. A small orchestra played softly as guests mingled and exchanged greetings before setting off to find their seats.

"There's Harry and Ginny," Hermione said quietly to him. He gave her a gentle push on her back as they made their way across the room to where the Potters stood chatting with the other guests at their table. Snape nodded to everyone with a pleasant, if slightly stupid, expression, and then pulled out a chair for his 'wife', again something he had seen with envy from a distance. He couldn't seem to control his hand, which lingered, stroking up her back, as she sat. He saw her shiver and swallowed.

He straightened up and ended up eye to eye with a scowling Potter. Surely Potter hadn't seen the subtle interaction from where he was standing, so Snape had to assume he was mad about something else. After their short exchange in the hallway earlier, they had seemed to get on fine, so Snape was confused as to why the man seemed ready to start swinging. He gave him a patented Weasley look of incomprehension and moved to take his own chair next to the Lovegood girl.

"Hello, Ron," she said in that strange voice he remembered. "I heard you were a little under the weather."

"Hello, Luna," he replied. "How're--?"

"The boys? Good! They can't wait for you to teach them how to fly when they get to Hogwarts next year. Lorcan especially. He's already been caught trying to steal Rolf's broom several times. Lysander is a bit less adventurous, but he still wants to play keeper for Ravenclaw someday."

"Marvelous, and--?"

"My research? That's going very well. Rolf and I are finishing up a definitive paper showing the evolutionary link between the Jabberwock and Kappas. It's the prehensile nose, you see. Rolf's grandfather left some notes on the subject that were the basis of my research. It's just so odd that no one ever noticed the link before." She turned and gave him the full force of her bug-eyed stare. "I guess it's the little things right in front of us that are the least noticeable, don't you agree?"

Snape felt his hair stand up.

"I guess so," he replied with Weasley-esque inanity. He reached for his water glass as a diversion while he tried to parse her words. If she suspected, surely his life debt would cause him discomfort. There was nothing. So either she wasn't as knowledgeable as her strange demeanor hinted at, or her knowledge wasn't a threat to Weasley.

"Luna, when did you and Rolf get back from Japan?" Hermione had leaned forward to speak across him. He shifted his chair a bit and leaned back to better accommodate her. She gave him a quick, surprised look and leaned over him slightly to chat up the woman on the other side, and he was enveloped in the citrus almond scent about which he dreamed nightly. Snape took the opportunity to slide his eyes down her long, glossy curls spilling off her shoulder and just missing his lap, before his gaze glided across the long, smooth length of her bare back. Her skin was flawless. There was a small mole, just half a hand span to the right of her first lumbar vertebrae and two finger's width from where the silk of her gown reclaimed its territory. It was as perfect in its mole-ness as was humanly possible to achieve. Since he would never get a chance to give it the proper due it was worthy of, he simply worshipped it with his eyes while his fingertips rubbed tiny circles on the back of her chair where his arm rested.

He performed a slightly masochistic experiment. He thought about strangling the Maggot with his ridiculous red and grey cravat and felt the expected heavy pain in his chest. When the pain had passed, he thought about leaning down and softly biting into the creamy shoulder hovering in front of him and felt nothing but the now constant stirring of his cock. Interesting.

Hermione stretched out her arm to take the photo that Luna had of her twin boys, and he saw just the slightest outer curve of her breast. _Too much, Too much!_

He coughed and sat up. Hermione backed away with a vaguely worried look and Luna bestowed an empty-headed smile on him.

"I think I need some more healing potion," he said quietly to Hermione, before pushing back from the table and standing up. "I'll be right back."

"Are you alright? Do you need me to come?" she answered, looking at him with honest concern.

His voice was especially strained as he rasped out a polite 'no'.

He turned and strode away from the table, intent on getting as much distance between himself and Hermione as was possible. He didn't notice Potter make his excuses and follow.

He slipped out of the Hall and headed towards the Weasley quarters for lack of a better direction. He just needed to get away. Find some room to breathe and try to get his subversive libido in order. When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned to see who was pounding up the stairs behind him and was surprised to see Potter coming at him with a furious look on his face. He stopped, but Potter just grabbed his arm and kept going, dragging him along behind.

"You and I are going to have a talk," he said.

Snape discovered Weasley couldn't raise a solitary eyebrow.

"Wha--"

"No!" Harry shouted, turning to shove a finger into Snape's face. "You're going to shut up, and you're going to listen!" He looked around and spotted an empty classroom. He shoved Snape through the door, slamming and warding it behind him.

Snape's self-protective instincts kicked in at being locked alone in the room, powerless. He backed away, casually looking for some sort of weapon or defense. He settled on clutching the edge of a desk that could be lifted and thrown in the way of any incoming hex. It would only work once. He watched Potter pace back and forth. So far he made no move towards his wand, but Snape kept his eyes pinned on him just in case.

"Ginny had a little chat with your wife today, Ronald. It seems your little secret is out of the bag now."

Snape narrowed his eyes as his chest started to tighten the slightest bit.

"You don't even try to deny it? Funny, I assumed you would be more of a coward than that."

"Just what is it I am supposed to be denying?"

"Hermione told Ginny you've been seeing another woman for _weeks!_ How _could _you?"

Snape let the natural surprise show on his face. _She knew?_ Of course, she knew. The Maggot had been hopelessly obvious about it all along. The demand to help him keep that secret lifted. The pain in his chest lightened, but only minutely. No one knew Ron wasn't here tonight, and the discomfort made it clear no one must know.

"Look, Harry--"

"Don't you dare! Whatever your excuse is, I don't want to hear it! It's time for you to grow up, Ron!" Snape didn't even try to defend himself as Potter rushed him, grabbing fistfuls of the hideous robes as he threw Snape back up against the wall. "She's…you…" He felt Potter shudder as he struggled to get a grip on his anger. "You are going to stop seeing her, whoever she is. You're going to go back to that party, and you are going to treat your wife with respect. You are going to put every effort you have into trying to make it work. If it can't be fixed, then you're going to find a new job and move far, far away from here. After a few years, you are going to quietly get a divorce. If you do _anything_ to cause any more harm to Hermione than you already have I'll--"

"I don't suppose I could talk you into having this conversation next week, say: Monday? Eight o'clock in my office? We really must be getting back to the party. I don't know how much good your little brotherly chat will do if I lose my job for fighting in an empty classroom, hmm?"

Potter looked at him in amazement. Probably because the words were nothing Weasley would ever have said. But Snape needed to throw him off, get him confused enough to nudge him off his center. Potter wasn't just a self-righteous little prat, he was head of the Auror department and not quite as stupid as his paternal potential would have allowed.

"I'm sure Mione is going to seriously appreciate your belated efforts to rush to her defense." He used the information gathered from hours spent listening to the Maggot whinge while brewing. "After all, I'm sure you _never_ noticed how miserable we both were. I'm sure she has _never_ felt, even once, any pressure at all to stay exactly as we are because you might need us to be part of _your_ sodding happily ever after." He knew he had scored when he felt the grip on his robes loosen. "Ay, _mate? _You care so much about her that you were willing to sentence both of us to hell just as long as we maintained the happy fiction that everything was all right in the end?" He took advantage when Potter's eyes dropped to the floor, shoving him backwards with enough force to knock the pillock on his arse. He moved until he was leaning down over him.

"I just bet that her exact words to Ginny were, 'Oh, and please tell Harry to stick his nose in after all this time. I'm really looking forward to his help after fifteen years of misery.'" He looked at Potter with all the anger and disgust he really felt once he had understood the way things had played out for the woman after the war. "My wife is not your business, Harry. She won't thank you for making it so now. Now open the bloody door, and let's get the hell out of here." He didn't bother to help as Potter struggled up off the floor looking chagrined.

Snape stared at himself in the men's room where he had gone to calm down after his run-in with Potter. He did his best to smooth the robes back into some semblance of order, noticing a small tear in the shoulder. He drank some more potion and shuddered before popping a handful of mints into his mouth. The very idea of traipsing around smelling like Polyjuice in front of a Potions mistress was utter lunacy. This whole day was utter lunacy from the moment he had choked down the rasping nettles, and it looked to only get worse. His chest started to hurt as he contemplated refusing to do this again. He was utterly trapped. He dropped his head against the mirror in defeat. The coolness felt good on his brow. He gave a last look in the mirror and ran his hand through his hair, making the short spikes in the front stand up, and then headed back to the ball.

Dinner was being served as he made his way back to his seat. Hermione looked up from the mostly empty table and gave him a nervous half-smile, and he nodded to her as he sat down.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice full of concern and a hint of something else. He looked at her and sighed.

"I'll be fine."

She continued to stare at him, and he realized the added ingredient was fear. He tilted his head at her in question.

"Did…did Harry say something to you?" she asked quietly. "I didn't want--look, it wasn't right of me to say anything to Ginny. I should have known she couldn't keep her mouth shut."

He looked around the room but didn't see any sign of the Potters on the dance floor where most of the others were.

"Ginny hauled him off to give him an earful when we realized what he had done."

He nodded in understanding and turned to his food.

"Ron, we need to talk. We need to--"

He caught her hand and squeezed it gently.

"Yes, but not tonight. Not when there are friends and family and guests we haven't seen for a while. Let's just…enjoy the evening. We'll talk when a better time presents itself."

She blinked and then graced him with a look so grateful it tore at his heart. She reached up and with a few quick strokes, she twitched his hair back into order. He smiled and squeezed her hand again before letting go and turning to his meal.

"Thank you, Ron," she said.

Snape was suddenly enraged at her pleading, grateful tone. She thanked her husband for not making more of a spectacle of himself as the secret of his infidelity got out. She should be furious. There should be goblets of wine in the face and public denunciation. But no, instead there was this defeated, grateful mouse of a woman thanking _him _for not making a scene. The world had truly gone mad. She deserved so much better.

He took a bite of his food and patted her hand again. Luna and her husband returned to the table, followed shortly by the Longbottoms. Everyone settled into their meals in silence, only occasionally broken by a pleasant comment. The Potters returned to the table, and Snape felt Hermione budge up closer to him until their thighs were touching. He wasn't sure if it was an act of solidarity or if the stress actually had her turning to _him_ for comfort. He could give her a moment of that, at least. He gave Potter and his wife a cool look before sitting back in his chair and draping his arm across the back of Hermione's seat. He pressed against her leg under the table. Her shoulders relaxed, and she reached under the table and squeezed his leg quickly. Only the tattered remains of his skills as a spy saved him from jumping out of his skin. He managed to sit still long enough to finish his meal.

"Do you want something from the bar?" he asked as he pushed his chair back.

"Yes, please. I would love some more wine."

He nodded and touched her shoulder as he left the table. His hand tingled. He made his way up to the bar, stopping and greeting a few people along the way as pleasantly as he was able.

When he reached the bar, he ordered a mineral water and a Pinot Noir before turning and joining in on a nearby conversation. Sinistra and Sprout were chatting with some Ministry officials he didn't recognize and couldn't begin to give a damn about. Best to suck up and help the Maggot keep his job.

"Oi, mate!" Snape was slapped on the back with too much force to be considered polite or even friendly. He turned quickly to see Seamus Finnegan standing there with a nasty grin. A young, bat-faced woman hung on his arm, quivering mounds of flesh spilling out of the top of her tasteless robes. She too practically leered at him. His chest constricted as he felt the warning signs of the life debt.

"Finnegan," he rasped out, giving the man a neutral nod.

"Hello, _Professor_," he said as the girl giggled beside him. "Sounds like your throat's kind of rough tonight. You don't sound like _yourself_."

"I had a bit of trouble with something I ate," Snape replied as his mind worked furiously to understand the dynamic while his chest throbbed painfully. He knew Finnegan was a friend of Weasley's and didn't understand why he was a threat.

"Here, I saw you making for the bar and I ordered you an ale, your favorite. Or don't you _remember?_" The giggling girl sneered at him as Finnegan offered him the tall pint glass. Sinistra was drawing herself up in indignation at what was turning into a scene, and one of the Ministry people frowned in distaste. Finnegan was obviously drunk.

"Thanks, Seamus," he said, taking the glass. "Walk with me." He signaled to the barman that he would be back for the drinks and led Finnegan away towards the doors leading to the rose garden. As they approached the doors Flitwick had charmed to lead out to the gardens, he stopped and added, "Leave the tart here." He strode outside, thinking over all his hazy memories of when Finnegan had been his student.

As Finnegan followed him outside alone, he angled for a secluded section of the high-walled garden.

"I take it you know," he rasped, letting Finnegan take a few steps ahead and moving towards his left side.

"That you're Snape?" he guffawed. "Of course I bloody know. It was _my_ idea, wasn't it? Effing brilliant idea too, if I say so my--"

Snape struck like a viper. In one motion he had slammed Finnegan's right shoulder into the brick wall and pinned his left arm up behind his body, his thumb finding the wand he had known would be there. His other hand flung the contents of the tall glass onto the ground and then cracked the glass against the wall before bringing the broken edge to press against his neck.

"You're not stupid enough to assume an old Death Eater like me needs magic to kill you, are you now, Seamus?" He pressed harder when the man tried to speak. "Thought you'd get your jollies twitting the hapless prisoner in front of an audience? Out for a bit of a lark? Showing off for your little bird?" He pulled hard on Finnegan's arm as the man started to struggle, nearly breaking his elbow with the pressure he applied.

"Well, I've got news for you _sunshine_. It's not going to happen. Do you even understand the nature of a second life debt? Hmm? No? Well, allow me to elucidate. Until the debt is repaid, I'm not allowed to knowingly cause or allow harm to befall the Maggot that might bring irreparable damage to his life. What do you think would happen if I did?" He pressed harder, blood started to seep from a shallow cut on Seamus's throat. "Still no ideas? _I die_. Simple as that. My heart explodes in my chest. All gone," he added in a sing song voice. "If you were me, Finnegan, what would you do? Should I allow you to drunkenly reveal your _mate's_ secret and ruin his life while I politely drop dead off to the side? Or should I kill you where you stand and bury you under some lovely roses? Gentleman's choice. You tell me." He let up the pressure enough to allow the man speak.

"I wasn't going to tell. It was just a bit of fun," he pleaded.

"A bit of fun," Snape spat. "I'll be sure to tell Weasley those were your words when he finds out what you almost did. I'm sure he'll thank you."

He pulled the man's wand out of his sleeve and stepped back and away.

"Leave, Finnegan. Now. You can get this back from Weasley on Monday."

Seamus rubbed his neck, blanching when his hand came away with blood.

"You're crazy," he said as he backed away. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Snape grabbed him by the neck and slammed him back into the wall.

"What part about me having been a 'Death Eater' did you misunderstand?"

"But…they…said you were one of the good guys!" Finnegan gasped out.

"Yes, they throw all the good guys in prison, don't they?"

Seeing a final understanding dawn in the drunken man's eyes brought a lessening of the pain in his chest. Snape pushed away from Finnegan in disgust, throwing the broken glass into the bushes.

"Leave. Don't come back into the Hall. I'll send the chit out after you. And Seamus? Don't come back to this school again until after my release; I will kill you if I must. Do not doubt that fact."

*

Seamus stood there, rubbing his neck until his date came running out into the garden, looking frightened. She didn't put up an argument when told the evening was over early.

* * *

Snape stalked back up to the bar and snatched the two drinks that were sitting there waiting for him. His internal monologue consisted of listing the various ways he could make Weasley pay that wouldn't cause his chest to fill with pain. He deftly avoided a dancing couple, turning to the right, then the left, without spilling a drop. The idea that he had been reduced to a petty thug who threatened former students was the capper on a day that could possibly rank in his top ten worst. It had been imperative that Finnegan believe his life was at risk. What galled Snape was the fact that it had been true. Just because he was good at it, didn't mean he took any pleasure in it. He abhorred brutality. However, he knew he would take a vicious thrill exacting a bloody revenge on Weasley if he was free to do so.

As he cleared the edge of the dance floor, Hermione looked up and saw him finally returning with her wine. She gave him the slightest of polite smiles. Later he was to wonder if his desire for revenge would have melded so completely with his desire for the woman if his blood wasn't up from his near brush with an old violence.

He looked back at her and a slow smile spread across his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

* * *

Welly, welly, welly, o my sisters. What's next? Real mysterio... Review and I will tell you the tale.


	10. When You Play With Fire

**AN:** Apologies for the delay. This chapter needed to be extensively rewritten at the last minute. Thanks go to **Dressagegrrrl** and **Whitehound** for their beta skills, but a very special thank you goes out to **Hebe GB** who stayed up and held my hand when I had finished smashing my head against the keyboard. Lub you, Duck.

And now, may I present: **Lemons**.

* * *

Hermione watched her husband's back disappear into the crowd as he headed towards the bar. Her eye caught again on the Scamanders as they made another turn on the dance floor. She tried not to feel envious of the obvious affection between the couple. Luna seemed to glow from within as her husband cradled her in his arms.

She heaved a huge sigh. What a mess this had all turned out to be. Guilt rolled over her in waves as she thought about Harry's angry ambush again. Ginny had been rather contrite and by the hangdog look Harry wore, Hermione was sure he had received a rather nasty lecture from his wife for his interference. She felt extremely uncomfortable for having spoken out of turn. She hadn't had the courage to speak plainly and openly to Ron herself yet, but had blabbed their personal business to his sister and set him up to get lectured by his oldest friend. It wasn't that Ron didn't deserve a lecture, but it would have been better coming from her.

The timing couldn't have been more wretched. She had never opened up to Ginny about the state of her marriage despite years of knowing looks or encouraging comments. The day she finally had was the day that Ron seemed to be trying to reach out to her. Of course he would get a face full of wrathful St. Harry, the Belatedly Concerned.

She looked up as a chair pulled out next to her and a glass of wine was placed in front of her.

"Hey, there. How're you doing?" said Ginny after she had sat and leaned closer.

"Alright, I guess."

"I am so sorry, Hermione. I don't know what I was thinking. Harry noticed Ron was acting funny. He seems off, you know? And so I told him there were some personal things going on. I had no idea he would react so badly. Honestly, you would have thought Ron had cheated on _him_."

"Well, to Harry's mind he did in a way," Hermione said. "Harry has always needed us to be who he thought we were. To suddenly not be would seem a betrayal."

"I can see your point on that," she said sadly.

They sat, quietly sipping their wine, thoughts far away from the frivolity around them.

"Well, I must say, Ron's been remarkably well-behaved tonight. You two actually seem to be getting along better than I've seen in years."

Hermione dabbed at her eyes to stop the glitter of tears that had sprung up at those words.

"I know. He was really amazingly mature when I apologized for telling you. He was so calm, and he promised we would talk. I really feel as if perhaps we can. Without all the screaming and petty drama."

Ginny reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"That would be a start," she said. "Do you think there's a chance you two could fix things? I mean after all these years and everything that happened…"

Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know. Honestly? I'd call it a success if we could get back to just being friends. More than that? I'm really willing to try, but I'm not going to beg for the moon."

"Well, I won't pry or interfere or let Harry even have an opinion while you two work through this. I'll be here for you if you need to talk, but no more blabbing for me. I've learned my lesson."

Hermione gave her a wry grin and bumped her shoulder against the other woman's.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Gin. It's tempting fate!"

They laughed.

"Speaking of tempting fate, do you know how good you look in that dress? I'd be envious if I hadn't helped pick it out."

Hermione grimaced.

"You don't think it's too much? I feel a bit silly in it now."

"No! You look marvelous! You've been getting not-so-subtle stares from a lot of men all evening! Why feel silly?"

"Well, I dressed for revenge, didn't I? Remember? 'Let's dress for your imaginary lover'? With Ron being so unusually attentive and, well, un_Ron_-like all evening, I feel just a tad conflicted."

"Well, he appreciates it, whatever your motivation was."

"Do you think? He hasn't said anything at all. I'm just grateful he didn't launch into his patented 'Mione, why are you trying to look like something you're not' speech."

Ginny flinched at her brother's words. He had frequently made comments about how frumpy his wife was, and now it seemed he had done his best to ensure she stay that way. Ginny would bet her eyeteeth that he was insecure enough to feel threatened if his wife looked too good.

"Well then, I'd take tonight as proof he's trying, at least. He not only hasn't insulted you, he was practically undressing you with his eyes when you both first came in."

"Really? I thought it seemed…different."

"Oh yeah, I can't say I've ever seen him look so…intense before." A familiar ginger head caught her eye. "Right, there he is now. I'm going to fade away and give you two some privacy. I want an owl at some point tomorrow," Ginny hissed in her ear. Hermione turned her head to see Ron gracefully dodge a couple of clumsy dancers holding the drinks he had left to fetch in a singular display of solicitude. She looked down at the glass Ginny had brought her, uncomfortable that he should return to the table and see she already had one. Surprisingly, her glass was empty again. She looked up and saw him coming nearer, an intense look on his face: she gave him a small smile, unsure of herself. The smile he gave her in return made the small hairs at her nape stand up. It seemed predatory. She fumbled with her fork, spearing the small cake that had appeared at the table and mangling it in her sudden nervousness.

"Your wine, madam," he said in a raspy growl.

"Thank you," she said, reaching up to take the glass from him. She gulped at it to cover her flustered reaction to seeing _that _lookagain.

He stayed standing, sipping at his own drink before setting it down on the table. She saw it was mineral water and not his customary ale.

"How is your throat? Is it hurting still?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Would you care to dance?"

She couldn't stop her eyes from widening in surprise. A look chased across his features as he watched her reaction and she feared he would take her surprise for an insult.

"Yes!" she blurted out, struggling to stand up before he could rescind his offer. He stepped back and took her hand to steady her on her feet before he led her to the dance floor with a warm hand on her back. She again felt the strange jolt that shivered up her spine when he touched her. She had never felt anything like that before tonight, but now it had happened for the third time.

They found a bit of clear floor, and he gathered her into his arms and commenced a simple slow box step. They moved together stiffly. Hermione felt her hand tremble in his and tried to take a few breaths to hide her confusion.

Ron's steps were sure and confident. Of course he had danced with other people at gatherings, as had she, but it had been so long since they had danced together that she was surprised at his skill. He had never before managed to pull off the almost possessive air he had as he held her now. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of his palm pressed gently across the small of her back, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of it. Opening her eyes again, she saw his ridiculous robes and felt petty for wishing he looked better. His thumb caressed the skin of her back and, startled, she darted a glance up at him. He stared down at her with barely an expression at all except for an unfamiliar, smoky look in his eyes. He looked away and guided them around a Ministry official dancing with the Headmistress. Sinistra nodded to them both, giving them a look that said she was pleased with their actions. Hermione stiffened, but Ron stroked a hand down her back to soothe her. She glanced at him again, and he gave her an odd little smile, almost an aborted smirk, before spinning her away from their employer. Neville and Hannah danced past, and the two couples exchanged greetings before moving away from each other. She was so swept up in her enjoyment that she was caught up short when the song ended. Sure that he would finally take the time to leave her and go hang out with his cronies, she was surprised to feel him gather her closer when the next song started.

Perhaps Ginny had been right. Perhaps Ron really did want to use this night as a way of showing her he wanted to reconcile. He was definitely showing her a new side. He'd been patient and attentive in a way she had never seen him act before. She closed her eyes again and gave in to the pleasure. There would be time enough tomorrow to talk. He said himself they should just enjoy the evening. What would be the harm? With a deep breath, she cradled her head against his shoulder and felt his answering caress as he gathered up and enveloped her hand in his. He rested his chin gently against her forehead.

The evening passed by in a blur of touches and strokes almost too light to be felt if not for the tingles that shot across her skin every time.

They constantly caressed each other when they danced, and when they sat to rest they still touched. A seemingly innocent glide of fingers across flesh as she sat or stood; a firm thigh pressed against hers under the table. The only time they separated was when he would leave to get her a new glass of wine or to slip off to the lav, always coming back smelling of mints as if hoping this time he might get a kiss. He never left her side, brushing off everyone that came expecting to easily lead him away from his wife as usual.

She had to constantly shut off the niggling voice that tried to make itself heard in her brain, something that was easier to do after the amount of wine she had consumed took control. The only time the voice was completely still was either when her eyes were closed or when she was staring into his now openly passionate gaze.

They were back on the dance floor for the third time. After two hours of his constant, seductive touch, Hermione and her wine decided it was time to kick things into high gear. She boldly wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest, rewarded by an instant hiss of breath and hands that ghosted down the curves of her arse. Too long. It had been entirely too long. She let out a soft moan, and he pulled her tight against his hard length.

She heard a softly whispered 'oh, yes' and realized it had come from her.

His roughened voice growled in her ear.

"We are done here."

Her belly flipped at the commanding tone in his voice just as the niggling voice broke free of the wine's control and started up again, only to be slapped back into silence by her now all-consuming need for sexual fulfillment.

She looked at him and nodded, allowing him to take her hand and lead her off the dance floor and out of the hall.

* * *

Phineas Nigellus Black had finished his limited patrol of the dungeons, limited by the fact that there weren't a large number of portraits hanging along the corridors down there. He eventually met up with Minerva, Albus, and Violet in the entrance hall, where they had agreed to meet in Weeping Willa's portrait. Willa graciously left them to it and wandered off.

"Anything?" Dumbledore asked as soon as he stepped into the frame.

"No sign of him or anyone else stirring about," Black reported.

Minerva sighed.

"I thought for sure whatever was going on with the boy had something to do with this evening," she said.

Violet piped up, "Now, Min, you don't know that it doesn't, only that we haven't figured it out yet. None of us have seen him since this morning. That doesn't mean he's not in danger. It means we can't find him if he is."

"Severus always hides during these functions," said Albus. "He did so as much as possible when he was a teacher here. It certainly isn't going to be different now that he's here under such a cloud. And our esteemed colleague, Aurora, doesn't want him around either."

"Well, we haven't seen anyone else lurking about looking suspicious. I would say we are still at square one," sniffed Phineas.

"I just can't help but feel time is running out," added Minerva. "We need to find out what's going on before something terrible happens that we could have--"

She fell silent when the sounds of the party suddenly grew in volume as the doors to the Great Hall swung open. Ron led Hermione out into the hall, pausing to pull her close to him as soon as the doors swung shut again, and kissed her passionately. Her hands clawed up his back and the portraits blushed at the sound of her throaty moan. Without breaking the kiss, he backed her up against the wall lifting her arms up over her head and holding them there with both hands as he bent slightly and pressed his body against her.

Minerva coughed delicately and the man froze, pulling his wife away from the wall possessively before looking around with a fierce scowl on his face. When he spotted the overcrowded portrait, he sneered malignantly before taking his blushing wife's hand and leading her away, up the stairs.

"Well," said Albus after the sound of smothered giggles faded away. "That was unexpected."

"Rather," said Minerva, intently inspecting a painted seam on her sleeve.

Violet just shook her head, having seen worse in her time as a portrait. Teachers got up to the most shameful things in the little room behind the head table.

Phineas Nigellus Black stared at the place the amorous couple had occupied, feeling like there was something important he was missing.

* * *

Hermione stepped through the portrait hole into her quarters with her husband close behind her. A brief moment of lucidity forced its way past both the wine-haze and the lust-craze, and she stood stock still, just two paces inside their sitting room, wondering why she suddenly feared that having sex with her husband might just be the second-worst decision of her life. There was a _wrongness_ screaming at her for attention, but she could neither name it nor fight to stop it. It had started with all those little touches, a small touch only setting off a small alarm. But those kisses they had shared downstairs, those drunken, drugging, passionate kisses she had never had before, those kisses had claimed her, bonded her, branded her. Those kisses were setting off a shrill alarm that had only keened louder as she got more distance. She had the distinct feeling that, like some Muggle drug, she would sell her soul for more of those kisses, and that there was something _wrong_ with that.

She closed her eyes as she heard him behind her, felt his robes sway against the silk of her gown. His deep, unsteady breaths spoke of a barely controlled desire. She felt she was close to an understanding, as if a great truth was circling the room, waiting for her to reach out and catch it. She scrunched her eyes shut even tighter as she heard him heave a deep sigh. It would take no effort at all to turn to him and say no. She could tell by the way he simply stood there that he understood there was wrongness here. She heard it in the labored breathing that was a blend of passion and grief. Both his and her own. She kept her eyes shut, searching for the truth that was so close, not turning, not moving away.

She heard the rustle of fabric as he lifted an over-starched sleeve. His hand gently, ever so gently, caressed her spine. When she felt the feather light touch upon her back her eyes fluttered open and she let her breath stream out as her head dropped back. The incredible pleasure she found in his simple, electric touch smothered her thoughts. Truth and clarity scurried off the playing field, realizing the odds had shifted and the game was lost.

"Touch me," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied, hoarsely.

He stepped closer and placed both of his hands on her shoulders before ghosting them down along her sides.

"Yes," he said again into her ear as his hands slid along her satin flesh, and fingertips slipped under the drape of her gown, conquering the outer curve of her breasts. Her arms reached back, and her hands slid into his hair. His breath was ragged in her ear as his hands surged forward and encompassed her breasts.

"You're wearing a charm," he whispered roughly.

"Yes."

"Take it off."

She leaned her weight back on him as she brought one leg up and slid her hand under her gown to pull out her wand.

"_Finite_," she whispered like a plea.

The natural weight of her breasts dropped them into his expectant hands, and his moan was so quiet she almost missed it.

"Perfect," he said.

More than one charm had been cancelled, and the long ribbons that had trailed elegantly down her back all evening slid to the sides. Keeping the palms of his hands on her breasts, he used his fingers to push the fabric away, causing the top of her dress to slither down her body and settle low around her full hips. He kneaded her flesh as his lips settled on her shoulder, her neck, the delicate shell of her ear.

Hermione was lost in sensations and feelings she had never thought possible outside of the realm of dreams. Her conscience hissed and spat when she remembered exactly which dreams, but she forced it to the side and closed her eyes, chasing sensation.

He whirled her around and pressed her back gently up against the door, staring at her with an almost pained wonder on his face. Her hands came up and clutched at his face, slanting her lips across his as her tongue slid hungrily into his mouth. He moaned, louder this time. His hands clenched around handfuls of her hair and it seemed to her as if their souls tried to merge through their kiss. His hands slid to her shoulders, and he tore his mouth away from hers, allowing a feral growl to escape as he bent down and took one of her breasts into his mouth.

Hermione gasped as she felt the tremors of his body as he kissed and licked, suckled and, _oh Merlin_, bit her lightly all over her breasts. He molded them together, rolling his face between them in ecstasy. The need filling her was almost overpowering, and her hands started to scrabble with the buttons and ties of his robes.

*

Snape was overwhelmed by his need. From the moment he kissed her, just outside the Great Hall, his angry negation of her as anything but Weasley's woman withered and died, leaving only his complete and total awareness of Hermione behind. Never in his life had he ever wanted a woman this much.

She was perfect. Her body was full and ripe and yet her waist was so narrow he could span it easily with his two hands. His hands, not these rough beasts. He reveled in her passionate abandon as she pulled at the laces and ties and buttons on the robes he wore. He was torn between wanting to shed the barriers keeping flesh from flesh and not wanting to see this body he wore like a hair-shirt. He lifted his lips away from her luscious breast with no little frustration. There was a lack of sensation, a lack of dexterity, as if he was trying to make love to his siren while swaddled in layers of cotton wool. His fingertips weren't as clever, and his calluses were in the wrong places. His lips weren't as adept, and his tongue slow to respond to a command. It was torture. It was punishment. Cursing fate, he was determined to wring what pleasure he could for the both of them from this moment they had been given; his siren would know he had fought for her with what weapons he had been allowed. He surged back up and took possession of her mouth again, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her tight against him. His kisses were more than passionate; they were primal. This witch had something he needed to live, and only by merging with her would he discover what it was.

She welcomed his kisses, opened herself up and gave herself over to him and he felt his heart swell as he looked at her kiss swollen lips and the tiny crease between her eyes. Her eyes were shut tight and he was glad. Her hands clutched at his shoulders pulling him in, trying to meld her body to his. She felt his hardness through his robes and ground herself against it, and he pulled away from her kiss and let out a deep, breathy groan.

His mouth moved to her neck, to her ear, to her shoulder, kissing and sucking while little gasps and moans and mewls escaped her. His hands slid down and started to gather up the fabric of her gown.

Her hands fumbled to open his robes and splayed across his chest, finding and tweaking a nipple, eliciting an explosion of breath he couldn't have stopped. She pushed him back and fell upon his nipple with her mouth, eliciting small sounds of encouragement at each of the hisses and curses he produced. She skimmed kisses down his belly before hooking her fingers into his trousers and pants and sliding them down his hips. His abdomen flexed and twitched under her lips and cheeks. He feared it would be over too soon but could only make a paltry attempt to stop her. One hand was clasped in her hair, urging, kneading, and caressing while the other hand was hooked under her armpit trying to pull her back up to her feet. He knew his conflicting messages amused her by the throaty chuckle.

He was gone. The seduced had become the seductress as he lost control of this dance. It had been too many years since he had felt a woman's touch, and he couldn't stop the shivers that wracked his body. He put his whole soul into articulating sounds that made no sense, but contained a universe of meaning. When he felt the hot wetness of her mouth engulf him, he shouted and grabbed for the door and twisted, as his legs collapsed, to keep himself from crushing her. She followed him down until he was on his knees with her before him sucking and licking his length. He reached out and pulled at her dress revealing her beautiful curved arse with its tiny thong. He felt his orgasm rushing up on him and forcefully pushed her away.

"No!" he shouted, grabbing the base of his cock in a death grip to prevent an untimely end. "Not yet," he said with more gentleness. He pushed her back onto the floor and pulled her gown and tiny matching knickers down, over her hips, and off.

Snape took a moment to take in the sight of his beautiful Hermione displayed before him in all her glory. Her eyes were still shut tight as she writhed under the incredible sensation of their shared touch. He grabbed his robes and pulled them off quickly before stretching himself along her body and sweeping her breast into his mouth with one languorous stroke of a hand. He tried to take his time but her sighs and moans grew louder and were urging him onwards toward the final act. He smirked as he denied her, skimming kisses down her belly. He knew he wouldn't last long and was determined to see to her pleasure first. He stroked her mound with the backs of his knuckles, meaning to draw out her pleasure, but his own desire took over and he swooped down on her and planted greedy kisses on her, urging her legs to part. He moaned at the taste of her passion and was so lost in his own pleasure that it took him far too long to realize it wasn't shared. He shifted for a better position and got serious about his business. Three minutes later he was almost in a panic of anxiety as he felt her grow cold and unresponsive under him. He worked frantically, nibbling and licking her folds, searching out her pearl and swiping at it with his tongue before sucking it between his lips and flicking it. Every touch, every attempt seemed to only make things worse. He slid first one, then two fingers inside her, stroking and calling for a response that wasn't there. He searched for that place, that spongy bundle of nerves, but these cloddish hands weren't sensitive enough to find it. He was nearly to the point of screaming. His siren was here before him, and he unable to please her, when it hit him: He wasn't _him_. That fucking useless maggot of a man had never seen to his wife properly. Everything he was doing was foreign and probably confusing. He lifted his head and met her angry gaze. He reared back away from her and grabbed his robes and scrubbed at his mouth before settling himself on top of her, raised up on his elbows.

"Hermione?" he whispered, nudging his nose across her cheek and finding it, too, was inadequate for the job.

*

Hermione had never abandoned herself so completely to passion before. Every touch, every sensation had been so fraught with intensity as to overwhelm her completely. It had felt like every fiber of her being had been engaged in this act. Even her heart had seemed to swell making her chest feel tight with need and pleasure. It hadn't been until _that_ moment, when she'd realized his intention to head in a new direction that her eyes had finally snapped open. And the sight of him practically making love to her navel had doused her in emotional ice water. His face was wrong; his eyes were wrong. _He_ was wrong. Humiliation had crashed down on her as she realized she had gone so deep within herself that she hadn't even been here with her husband. Only when she'd opened her eyes did she understand that she had been making love to another man entirely. It had felt wrong, like a deception. It didn't help that he had changed his technique to the point where he seemed like a different lover completely.

Now as her mind was beginning to fully engage, she catalogued each and every act, marking the differences. Wondering what else those other woman had taught him. Where had he learned that? And since when was he interested in _this?_

If she had ever needed proof that he had been with other women this was it. Although he was a great proponent of oral sex when he was the recipient, he had always been rather vocal in his view that reciprocating was disgusting. He was trying to please her with tricks he had learned by fucking other women behind her back. Only an idiot could possibly think that would work. But then, Ronald had always been a bit of an idiot. She had just been too loyal to see the truth until it was far, far too late. The question of whether or not she could forgive him for his adultery was answered with a resounding: No.

Now her mind was running a constant stream of commentary. She hadn't been consumed with lust. She was drunk. Very drunk. They weren't making mad, passionate love. They were rutting like animals on the floor, not having made it even four feet into the room. She hadn't been deeply moved by his ardor. She had let her mind run off and was fantasizing about another man. _The_ other man. Severus. _Severus_. She felt guilty and foolish and defensive and hurt all at the same time.

His head came up swiftly and she just stared back at his panic-stricken face. He scrambled back up and loomed over her, whispering her name with concern.

_There_, she thought, _that's another thing. He hasn't called me that since we were students_.

He nuzzled her cheek and settled his body down on top of her. The incredible pleasure at the touch of so much skin almost overwhelmed her. Her mind split into two parts. One side of her was angry, both at herself and at him. The other just wanted to shut her thoughts off and fall back down into the pleasure. Would it be so bad if she did? She understood, deep down, that this would be the last time they did this. She knew the morning would bring a colder reality. But whatever it was that brought this intensity of pleasure tonight had never happened before and she was loath to end it. As he feathered her with kisses, as one hand massaged her scalp and the other gently stroked her breast she made her decision.

She gave him his due for trying and she'd take pity on him as a reward, she'd done so plenty of times in the past, but this would be the last time. History had shown it would only take a few more minutes anyway. She found his lips and kissed him back, rewarded with a strangled groan that broke from deep within him.

She let herself get lost again in the kisses the touches and when she spread her legs, the growl he let loose made her toes curl. She felt him reach down and position himself and then he was _there_. She reveled in the feeling of fullness, of completion. The sense that she was finally whole. It took her a moment to realize he wasn't moving. At this point he usually just kept ramming away until he screamed like an injured house elf and came. But this time he went so still she was afraid he had hurt himself somehow by the choked, gasping sounds he made. She was sure he was going to chip a tooth from the grinding. To help things along, she clenched her muscles tight around him. She jumped when all his breath exploded out of him.

"Don't!" he bellowed. "Don't…move." His entire body was trembling at this point.

His reaction confused her. Her thoughts were shards that she didn't have the ability to repair. She was only aware of two things: How hard the floor was under her back and how much she needed him_ to move._

"Ron, the floor's a little cold. Can we move this along, just a bit?"

His head snapped up, and she felt his near violent tremors subside just before he pulled out and lifted off of her. She felt an intense sense of loss and was chagrined at her words. She hadn't meant to say it like that, but her back _was_ getting sore, and her brain was still soaked with wine. She thunked her head against the floor in frustration and was about to pick herself off the floor and call it a night when she was swept up into his arms. He carried her, stumbling only once on the ottoman, over to the door of his room and kicked it open. A solitary candle lit the space as he made his way over and gently, almost reverently laid her out on his bed. He slipped off her shoes and garter before stripping off the rest of his clothes and climbing in next to her.

"Fuck, this thing is almost worse than the floor," he muttered before he rolled her over on top of his chest and pulled a blanket over her.

She was so bemused by his tenderness that she remained speechless as he arranged the folds until she was completely covered. She made a note to herself to remove the jinx she had cast on the bed in the morning.

"There," he said. "Now where were we?" He lifted up his hands and cupped her face, bringing it down to kiss.

Her thoughts scattered again as they kissed. There was something about these lips tonight that she just couldn't get enough of. When he kissed her, everything was right in the world. She didn't want to see the truth; she didn't want complications. She was tired and drunk, and he was needy. They both wanted this and it would all be easier if they just did what they intended and suffered the consequences later. She kissed him deeply. They kept their lips in constant contact, as if they knew this was their last chance to get it right. He shoved all the pillows behind his shoulders so he could keep his lips on hers while exploring the rest of her. His hands plucked at her nipples and chased down her curves to play in her folds. Her body seemed to hum under his touch. He replaced his hand with his cock and thrust up into her, and they both moaned in harmony, lips still touching.

"You're so hot," he said in a ragged voice. "You feel like heaven to me, oh gods, I've dreamed of--" His voice choked off, and he clutched at his chest before frantically seeking her mouth again.

Hermione tried to back away, concerned, but he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pumping into her slowly.

"No escaping now, witch," he said, sending a thrill racing along her spine. She kissed him and leaned back, until she was sitting upright. She began rocking her hips, and he groaned. His hands came up and cupped her breasts, and he curled up and kissed them pulling her back down with him when gravity won out over his awkward position. He took over for her, lifting his hips and thrusting into her as he kissed her passionately on the lips. He rolled her over and loomed above her, shifting the angle of his hips with a fierce look of concentration on his face. Suddenly she felt an intensity of sensation that she'd never felt before and gasped.

"What was that?"

His eyes opened and they held a look of triumph.

"Do you like that, my siren? Is that your spot?" he held that angle and started to pump into her in earnest. Hermione let go with a long, low, throaty moan and he seemed to melt. "Yessss…that's it…let me hear your song." She writhed beneath him, as he kept up the pace, concentrating on her needs as if trying to deny his own. He crooned beautiful words to her and she felt as if she needed to answer him in some unspoken way. She kept her eyes clenched tightly closed as he overwhelmed her with his desire.

"I need to hear your song. I need…oh, shite, I need this!" She felt her pleasure build to the breaking point. She was sure if it was anymore intense, she would explode. He brought a hand to her clit and circled it, urging her on towards completion with little grunts and growls, as if he was desperate for her to hurry.

"Yes, witch. Let go. Come for me." His voice broke into a hoarse sob as be pounded into her with abandon. "Come for me, _ahhh_…gods… It's too good. Fucking hell, please. Let go, woman!" And she did. She keened as her pleasure overtook her.

"Hermione!"

As he emptied himself deep inside her with a primal shout, her pleasure turned to horror as she felt her magic get sucked out of her body. She opened her eyes long enough to see a brilliant flash of light before she went limp

*

Snape watched, face frozen in a rictus of ecstasy and terror, as her magic poured from her body and rushed up towards him, only to curl back, like a wave against a cliff and collapse back down into her body. He was utterly astounded.

He watched as she came back to herself slowly and collapsed at her side, stunned.

"What the bloody hell was that?' she asked when she found her voice. She turned her head, but he didn't answer. He just lifted a hand, reverently and stroked her cheek. She slapped the hand away in anger. He opened his mouth to explain but his words choked as the pain in his chest flared back to life with vigor. He watched in growing dread as she struggled to understand what happened and didn't find an answer. An answer Severus Snape wasn't allowed to explain.

"Was that some new trick you just learned along with the rest of them, Ron?" His emotions ran the gamut from confused to angry to ashamed. "When your lady friend taught you that parlor trick, did she tell you that you might leave me a fucking _Squib?_"

"I didn't--"

"Didn't mean it? Is that what you were going to say? You never _mean_ it, Ron. I'm not sure if you're capable of _meaning _anything!"

She shoved at the blanket in her way and heaved herself out of the bed. He threw himself across the bed to grab her arm, but she danced out of the way before snatching up her shoes and garter.

"Hermione--"

"Don't!" she screamed. "What the hell has gotten into you? Why did you _do_ this?" Her voice cracked on a sob, and she turned and sat down hard on the bed. He surged up and around her, pulling her back against his chest.

He knew he should let her cry. How the fuck did he _think_ this was going to end? Whatever he had thought, he could never have predicted how it had ended. Gods, it answered so many questions. He should let her storm out of the room, but he couldn't. Not after what he had seen, not after what had almost happened. What would have happened had he been free.

"I'm not myself," he said in reply.

She sagged against him, and he held her tightly. The alarm on his watch went off and his mind started to shriek at him. The life debt kicked back in, and he was caught between what he had to do to save his own life, and what he suddenly felt was more _important_ than his own life. The life debt didn't care if he slept with Weasley's wife, only if she found out.

"Oh, Merlin," she said only a moment later. "I can't do this anymore. I don't love you. I don't think I ever loved you. Not in the way you needed. Tonight was beautiful and special and romantic, but in the end all I could think about was how many other women it took to finally teach you how to shag. I…I can't forgive that." She stood up and walked to the door and looked back. "Don't look so devastated," she said. "After everything we've done to each other over the years, can you honestly tell me that you've always loved me?"

He looked her in the eyes, and told her the truth she needed to hear.

"No."

She nodded sadly and walked out the door, closing it behind her.

"But I should have," he whispered hoarsely after her.

*

Hermione walked back through the sitting room in the dark, clutching her shoes and garter. She felt the soft silk of her dress under her feet and knelt down to pick it up. Feeling the gown's fabric run like water through her fingers triggered her grief, and she crouched on the ground and sobbed. She cried for her broken hopes and her broken dreams and all the broken promises. She cried for her broken marriage and her broken husband. She cried for her own hypocrisy, angry at her husband's betrayal while she had panted after a broken man who never got to see her in her pretty dress. She gathered the dress to her bosom and cried for her broken life.

*

On the other side of the door, crumpled naked on the floor, and listening to every sob and hiccough, Severus Snape leaned against the wood and rubbed at the cuff on his wrist while the tears rolled unchecked down his face and dripped onto his thin, pale chest.

*

*

* * *

Thanks to all my readers, this chapter is for you. And to those that I cannot reply to personally, your reviews are cherished.

Speaking of reviews...


	11. Flickers of Understanding

**AN:** Everyone who is enjoying this, repeat after me: Thank you **Hebe GB**, **Dressagegrrrl **and **Whitehound**! Yup, anyone who's gotten one of my PM's knows this is so much better because of their efforts.

**Not mine. No money.**

* * *

Severus Snape stood on the edge of the parapet and watched as dusk settled over the Forbidden Forest. His hands pressed, palm down, on the merlons and his foot rested, knee slightly bent, in the opening of the corbel. When Ron finally found him after stomping through the rest of the castle in righteous anger, his first thought was that it looked like the man was going to jump. Then he realized Snape was standing exactly where Harry had told him Dumbledore fell. It occurred to Ron that it might make things easier if the bastard _did _jump. He was somewhat taken aback by his own sudden urge to push him.

"Oi, Snape! Just what the hell did you think you were doing last night?" he yelled. "And don't try to play coy, I already know the truth. I just want to hear your bloody explanation."

Snape closed his eyes briefly, but then straightened his shoulders and turned to face his accuser. He raised one elegant brow tauntingly.

"I got a _Patronus_ from Seamus last night. He said you almost killed him!"

A blink was the only reaction at first, but then a cruel smile played across Snape's features, giving Ron pause.

"No, _you_ almost killed him, Weasley. _I_ tried to warn you. _I_ tried to council you. _You_ decided your petty needs superseded common sense and common decency and ran off anyway." He left the edge of the parapet and stalked closer to him, causing Ron to back up. "How successful did you think I could possibly be pretending to be you? I can think of at least a dozen incidences where, despite the compulsion to try to do my best, people looked at me strangely or wondered why I didn't seem to be _myself_. Tell me, Weasley, have you heard from anyone else? Have you spoken with your _wife_?"

Ron was confused by what seemed like a sudden shift in topic.

"No, why should I speak with her? I haven't even seen her. She's locked herself in her office again."

"Ahh. So you, what? Dumped your things in your room and came running to defend the honor of your best mate? Is that it? Well, let me explain a few things you seem to be ignorant about then. Firstly, our clever little Seamus Finnegan, so proud was he of his cunning plan for you to enslave me--"

Ron flinched and opened his mouth to defend himself.

"Don't! What else would you call not having a choice but to serve?" Snape hissed in his face before getting control of his anger. He circled Ron, speaking in a low voice, both reasonable and threatening at the same time.

"Your friend was so proud of his plan that, once he was in his cups, he decided to brag about it, first to his little whore of a date and then in front of your employer, thus leaving me three options. I could have let him and died, or I could have killed him and let your secret stay nice and safe. He took the third option and fucked off. He knows that if he comes back he will end his days as ingredients in the student cupboard with none the wiser but _you_ and _I_."

"You wouldn't have died," Ron said defensively. "The life debt only urges you to do me a favor. You're making that up."

"_Am _I? Tell me Weasley, did you research life debts at all?"

"Yeah, I researched it."

"Really? Then tell me, _Professor Weasley_, what are the consequences for coming under a life debt twice? Hmm? What happens when you are plucked from the very brink of the veil itself? Didn't read that far? Let's just say the consequences are…exponential. Fate has issues with someone unable to keep himself alive. She tends to become a bit _cruel_." Snape's face infused with disgust and venom. "Gods! Am I so damned that my life rests in the hands of such an fool? There is an entire school behind you, Weasley. Use it. Or better yet, ask your _wife_ to research it. Isn't that what you used to do? Perhaps she would think it was a charming gesture, something you might do to crawl back into her good graces."

"Why would I want to do that? What's my wife got to do with this?"

Snape graced him with a look of exaggerated disappointment.

"To go through life so profoundly stupid must be a blessing.

"She has _everything_ to do with it, you imbecilic fuckwit. She's the reason you've been sneaking out of the castle, is she not? She's the one we've been hiding from all these weeks brewing your illicit, restricted potions so you could take wing and fly away from your responsibilities, yes? She's the one you would have gotten your friend killed over rather than sit next to her at a work-related function, no? Wrong woman? She's the one that told your sister yesterday afternoon, during their shopping expedition, that you were _having an affair_."

Ron felt the blood drain from his face.

"You told her," he gasped out.

Snape rolled his eyes.

"Oh do just try to stop and think. I know it's uncomfortable for you. Would I have gone through weeks of hell watching your pathetic attempts at brewing if I could have simply told your wife? Endured the pain of destroying my voice? Willingly spent hours looking like a freckled freak? Slept on that gods-be-damned bed? Must you really be that stupid? Doesn't it get tiresome at all? Is it just too much for your malformed brain to conceive, that you might have been a little…fucking…_obvious_?"

"Now see here--"

"No! You see _here_--" Snape's words choked off as he grabbed his chest suddenly. He looked ferociously determined, as he spat out his next words, despite his obvious agony. "This…charade…is…" Ron looked on horrified as the man's pain drove him to his knees. "…over." Snape panted softly as he hugged his chest tightly, as his color slowly came back. His lips had actually turned blue. Ron stood there gaping at him in utter shock, realizing only now the price the man might have paid and wishing he could take it back. Snape's next words came easier, but he said them to the stone flooring. "I realize I am in your debt until the price of my life has been worked off. Obviously, supervising your blundering attempts at brewing and being forced to participate in your ludicrous masquerade is not enough." He tapped his chest. "I can feel that. However I can sense other things as well. There is no compulsion on me to help you brew anymore. This tells me you know enough to do it yourself." He looked back up at Ron from where he rested on his knees. "If you think it's even remotely plausible that I choke down rasping nettles and play the git in front of the entire school again, you'd better think harder, Sonny Jim. Because it would be more enjoyable to let my heart explode than put up with your sister looking daggers at me for my supposed betrayal again. It would be more convenient for me to keel over dead than put up with Potter's suspicions and self-righteous threats to kick my arse if I don't straighten up. I would much rather miss out on a replay of the sage advice to try to make a go of it with my wife, or at least have the decency to fade off into the sunset. And rest assured, I would much rather _die_ than suffer again through the petty drama of having your wife telling me it's over, and she never loved me." Snape took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand down his face. Ron stood there, his stomach churning, and his limbs shaking beyond his control. Snape pushed himself to his feet and gave him a pitying stare.

"I have struggled to try and serve you, Ronald, and _you_ went and gave the game away, needlessly jeopardizing lives. I will keep your secrets. I have no choice. Don't ask any more of me, if you have any shred of decency left. Don't ask any more." Snape fell silent at last and turned his back on the man. "Go deal with the life you have, Weasley, and don't bother trying to lead a double one. One only suffers more in the end when they try."

Weasley watched Snape staring off into the dying light for a long moment before tearing himself away and blundering down the stairs.

* * *

Ron walked the halls for a long time trying to figure out how his life had come so completely undone. He tried to spot the turning point that made everything spiral down into the complete mess that it was.

His life was a disaster. Even his weekend had been a disaster. At first, he had been swept up in the excitement and wonder of being in such a beautiful place with the gorgeous Estelle on his arm, but that soon paled as he started to get nervous at the amount of money she was running through. By the time she had ordered caviar and champagne for breakfast this morning, he'd had to have a few words with her. First of all, what kind of a meal was that? Didn't she understand that breakfast was the most important meal of the day? And secondly, she had run through his entire month's endorsement check, and he'd had to dip into his and Hermione's joint account to pay for lunch. By the time they were ready to portkey back to Britain, he was done with the crazy bint. She had started whinging and complaining, and when he'd told her to leave off, she'd gotten downright childish, saying he was cheap and had no class at all.

He'd dumped her at her flat with profound relief that he had never given her his true identity. He hadn't been able to wait to get back home. Home had started to seem like the answer to all of his problems. He'd figured he would confront Snape for getting out of line, and then he could have a nice soak in the prefects' bath and relax and get some peace for the rest of the night before getting back to the daily grind tomorrow.

But now everything had turned to ashes. As much as he still felt an antipathy for the git, he had to give Snape his due for finally making him see what the stakes had actually been, as well as what a mess he had made of everything. He'd been running around making a fool of himself like he was having some pathetic midlife crisis, and he wasn't anywhere near seventy yet. Snape was right. He hadn't researched life debts properly. Just thumbed a few references and then gone into action. He should have known Seamus would have done something foolish. He always did. He should have known it was a stupid idea. He should have seen all the ways things could have possibly gone wrong. That had always been his strength before. It felt like who he was, who he remembered himself being, was disintegrating. This wasn't how his life was supposed to have turned out. Why had everything gone wrong, and why did this disintegration seem to be accelerating? Things had never been great between him and his wife, but it seemed like everything had started to come apart in the last year and a half. His irrational behavior almost felt like he was under some kind of compulsion of his own to get away, but his own detection spells had failed to turn up any trace of a curse or imposed compulsion on him. Nothing made any sense.

He found himself outside of the unused office he'd appropriated to brew his bad idea and realized that the only way to set things back on track was to come clean with the truth. He needed his freedom. He couldn't go on like this. The only things he feared were how much Mione would hate him, and how much it would hurt his children. The rest of the world could go hang.

* * *

Hermione was at her desk going over her notes for the final test of her targeted tissue-replacement potion. With school ending soon, she would be able to commit more time to her research if she could get Sinistra to agree to allow her to stay at the school for a week or so over the break.

Healer Planq, the cardiac specialist at St Mungo's, was already pressuring her to start. She had been slated to run the test just before she had decimated her Potion stores, but it was impossible to start the test before the end of term now. There were too many delicate steps that needed long term supervision to risk it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She looked up, startled, and heard Phineas make his usual snort whenever he was disturbed from his sleep. A noise that, he was convinced, was too undignified for the likes of him.

"Shall I see who that is?" he offered.

Hermione nodded.

"If you would be so kind."

As she watched him lean out of his frame to stick his head into the landscape painting beside her office door, she wondered who would disturb her at this hour of the night. Her heart started to beat faster when she thought of who she wanted it to be. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Severus since yesterday morning before she had gone shopping with Ginny. It had been hard to get him out of her thoughts since her humiliating realization during her bout of drunken sex with Ron.

"It's the flying instructor," drawled Phineas as he sat back down in his frame and closed his eyes again.

"Oh, damn," she said.

She flicked a wand at the door, and it popped open.

"Come in," she said brusquely, shuffling her notes together.

Ron entered her office with that guilty, hangdog look she loathed, and her heart sank. _'Oh, Merlin. We're going to have the talk'_, she thought to herself.

*

"Hello, Mi," Ron said before taking the seat she gestured to. "Look, we need to talk." He took a deep lungful of air to set his thoughts in order and began. "About this weekend--"

"Stop," she said, putting an impatient hand up. "I really don't think we need to rehash this weekend. It will just make everything uncomfortable for both of us. Let's just cut to the heart of the matter. You've been seeing another woman. There, it's out. Moving on, we have the fact that I can't forgive you. I thought I could, but I just can't. It's not that I don't understand how trapped and miserable you are. I am, too. But if there was ever a chance to fix this mess we made and come to an understanding, it's dead in the water now. Whereas I deeply appreciated your efforts to be attentive when we were in public together last night, and well, the rest of it, it wasn't enough.

"The question is: where do we go from here? Yes, we can split up. Go our separate ways. Cut and run. However you want to put it. But you and I both fear how that will affect the children. On top of that, we would both lose our jobs. You could probably fall back into the world of Quidditch, but I assure you the scandal would destroy my career. No other school would want to hire a teacher with a scandal behind her, especially not one that's already famous, if not infamous to some people.

"I'm very close to the finish line on Minerva's potion, Ron. I need this job. I need the school's facilities, and I need its reputation to continue the backing of my research grants. If we split up now, I lose both. That leaves me unemployed, huddled in my parent's basement, trying to work on a delicate potion that could save the lives of countless people suffering from the effects of damage similar to Minerva's."

"You would have the Burrow," Ron interjected.

"No, Ron. You would have the Burrow. Rose and Hugo would have the Burrow. I would have my ex-husband's parents' house." She sighed and rubbed at her temples as Ron fell back against the chair and closed his eyes.

"I wouldn't have the Burrow either. If we split up, my family would stop speaking to me. Harry and Ginny--"

"That I do apologize for," she said quickly. "I don't know what possessed me to tell Ginny anything when we've both put such an effort into not letting anyone know. I should have had the decency to speak to you personally about things before I took it to anyone else." She closed her eyes and dropped her head. "It was especially painful because you had put such effort into being pleasant. I enjoyed seeing your display of manners, and yes, I enjoyed the dances and not having you run off with all your mates, leaving me sitting by myself all night again. To have you get ambushed by Harry and taken to account on my behalf, well, it had a painful irony to it."

Ron was more than a little uncomfortable with the fact that Snape had been a better husband. He felt the tell-tale anger he now associated with his more irrational decisions and struggled with it. These thoughts always led to more problems. He couldn't help the suspicion that flew crookedly across his brain like a drunken Snitch. However, he remembered the look of utter disgust on the man's face when he had related how distasteful it had been to have been a part of their drama and immediately put the ludicrous thought out of his mind. Surely the life debt would have forbidden such a thing anyway.

"Well, the timing was not the best, that's for sure," she continued. "But I will say that perhaps one thing did come out of it. Ginny did point out that we might be acting a little too overprotective of the children. She seemed to think that they might be able to weather the crisis better than we fear since they have such a large circle of family and friends."

He digested this last bit. They both had held on to a deep fear of what the consequences for their children would be. As bad as thing always seemed to get between the two of them, they never differed on their opinion of what was best for Hugo and Rose.

"So, it is really up to you. If you want to split up, then I won't fight you. You obviously feel that you need to take extreme measures to find some comfort. We'll lose our jobs one way or another. If you keep going the way you are, then the scandal will be that much greater. However, I ask you to consider the impact it would have on my work."

Ron closed his eyes and took a moment to think his decision through.

"How much longer will it take to finish your work on Minerva's potion?" he asked finally.

Hermione visibly sagged with relief.

"I need a week or so to wrap up the final lab tests and then probably the rest of the summer to get the paper written, and then there will be several months of clinical trials by Planq's team at St. Mungo's. I think that should be done by late November at the latest."

Ron nodded his head.

"And your success with this potion would seal your reputation and move you out from under Slughorn's thumb?"

"Yes, it is absolutely outside his realm, and I also avoided consulting with him at any point. If this is a success, and I think it will be, then it will be mine and mine alone. It will cement my position in the Potions community. No one will be able to write me off as a one-off who got lucky building on her mentor's notes this time."

Ron leaned in and looked her in the eye.

"Your mentor was never particularly vocal about refuting that claim either.

"Alright, Hermione. Let's do this. Finish your work. Your potion is more important than our crumbling marriage. Let's go one more school year, all the way through until next June. By then, you should have received offers from other places interested in helping your research, and we can both quietly leave here in the summer without any fuss. That will leave us plenty of time to figure out how to tell the children and prepare them. Alright?"

Hermione started to cry. Ron felt his chest tighten at the sight.

"Thank you, Ronald."

Ron looked at her with a mixture of emotions bouncing around his brain. On the one hand, he had come here to spill the truth, and he had completely chickened out. However they only had to limp through one more year, and then he would be free. If he told the truth now, she might do something rash that would cost them not only their jobs, but her own future in the process.

He stood up, awkward and uncomfortable. It didn't seem like the time to give her a hug or a pat on the back, and shaking hands just seemed stupid. How did one end a conversation like this?

"S'alright, Mi. I'll, um, let you get back to your notes."

She nodded, and he practically stumbled out the door.

*

"That could have gone a lot worse," said the portrait above the desk gently.

"Yes. Yes, it could have been much worse. It looks like this way we'll be able to retain our dignity at least."

"And your research."

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, there's always that."

* * *

He came upon her on the fourth floor at midnight. He was aware of her presence before he saw her and understood now that he had been led here to find her in her distress. He stood in the shadows and watched her as had been his wont in past times, but he found it impossible to watch the tears tracking down her face, glittering in the moonlight, and do nothing. Knowing what he now knew, the truth that had been impossible to escape, since the evidence had rushed up at him the night before, only added to his pain. He could see no way for this to play out in any way except as a great tragedy. He ghosted over to her.

"Why do you cry?" he asked, making her jump.

She scrubbed hurriedly at her face with a sodden tissue before turning around and facing him. They stared at each other for a long moment, and he watched a million thoughts chase across her features. Finally they settled into an expression of such sadness and loss that he had to close his eyes against it.

"Why does anyone cry, Mr. Snape?"

He opened his eyes again and saw she had stepped away. He stared at the distance she had put between them.

"Because the world is cruel, Professor."

She nodded as if in complete agreement and turned away, taking a few steps, before looking back.

"I wore a pretty dress last night. You should have seen it," she said. He understood the seeming non-sequitor. It wasn't a flirtatious comment, but a statement of how twisted everything had become.

"I did," he replied. Willing her to understand more than he was allowed to explain.

She studied him for a moment more before she left.

* * *

Hugo went to his father's office just before lunch the next day when he knew his father had a free period. The door was open, and he saw his dad sitting at his desk staring out the window with the same sad look on his face that he'd had when Hugo saw him at breakfast. He knocked on the door frame to get his attention.

"Hey Hugo," his dad said, suddenly jovial. "How's my boy? What kinds of books have you been getting into lately?"

"I'm still reading Borage."

"Who's Borage?" his father asked him. "Tell me about him while we walk to lunch."

"It's the book on potions."

"Oh, yeah? What kind of potions? You're going to take after your mum then, you think? I wouldn't be surprised. You're both smarter than anyone else around, eh?" His dad clapped an arm around his shoulders, and together they walked out of the room. "She could brew some pretty advanced potions by her second year. She was amazing. So you going to brew anything in there? Something in the book strike your fancy?"

"Well, there's some pretty interesting stuff in here. Like this one--" the boy stopped and opened the book up to a page and showed it to his father.

"The Draught of Living Death." his father read out loud. "Ah, yes. Well, unless you're having trouble falling asleep, that one's just useless. It sounds pretty dramatic but it's just a really strong sleeping potion. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"No, I'm fine." he said, looking at his father strangely.

"What other things do you want to brew?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe Polyjuice Potion would be interesting. I think it would be fun to pretend to be someone else for a bit you know?"

He watched as his father's face clouded over for a moment.

"I think you should just be yourself, Hugo. Trying to be other people can get pretty complicated and make your life really confusing. Maybe you should stay away from that one."

"Alright, Dad." They had reached the Great Hall, and the students rushed by to get their meals. "Oh, and Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted to say thanks again."

"For what?"

"You know, the tree?"

"What tree?"

Hugo looked at his Dad and then shook his head as if to clear it.

"Never mind, someone gave me a note about where to find a particular tree I was looking for. I thought it was you, must have been James."

"Well, I'm always here to help look for trees. Just let me know next time. Sounds like fun."

His father patted him on the back and steered him to his seat.

"Right, there you go. Eat up, now." He scrubbed his hand through Hugo's hair and left to find his own meal.

Hugo sat down to his meal, but never took his eyes off his father unless it was to look over at his mother, sitting stiffly to the side, picking at her meal.

* * *

"I find this highly irregular, Professor."

"In what way, Headmistress? You've never denied my request before. Surely the tradition of summer research at Hogwarts is of tremendous benefit to the school. Think of the publicity that my breakthrough would generate. Had this potion been available five years ago, Minerva would still be here." Hermione saw her mistake too late as the Headmistress's frosty demeanor became positively frigid. "That is to say, she would still be _alive_. I know she already had plans to retire early, so there's no doubt she wouldn't be _here_," she lied, risking an apologetic glance at McGonagall's portrait and getting a wink in return.

Sinistra stared at her with an expression that bordered on open dislike.

"I know all about how important research is, Professor. My issue is the impropriety."

"If I may ask, Headmistress, what impropriety?"

"Having you and your husband living away from each other and swapping the children on alternating weekends. It's as if you were _divorced_. It sounds like some sordid custody arrangement. I fear any positive publicity your little potions project might produce for those who take notice of such things would be utterly drowned out by the _gossip_."

"Well, Harry has plans to take all the tribe to Malta, for a holiday. Perhaps I can write the paper at home."

"The _tribe_?"

"The children--All the cousins, and some of their friends--It's what we call them."

"Yes, well. That doesn't change the fact that you and your husband are taking separate holidays. People are bound to _notice_."

"Oh, please, you must see--" Hermione's words were cut off by a wave of the Headmistress' hand.

"I will think about it and give you my answer at the end of the week."

"But that's the last day of school. I will need to know what arrangements need to be made before then."

"I have said my piece, Professor. Unless you would prefer I make a decision now?"

Hermione stared at the woman and was glad the Headmistress wasn't skilled at mind-reading like a few of the previous ones, for surely the woman would have seen the myriad ways the Potions Professor was killing her and doing away with the evidence in her mind.

"I…thank you for your consideration, Headmistress. Good day."

* * *

Hermione stormed down the stairs and contained herself until she was free of the gargoyle. At that point, she let go with a string of offensive words that clearly called into doubt the legitimacy of the Headmistress' birth, intelligence, ancestry, and physical attributes. When she was done, she found herself face-to-face with a rather amused school caretaker.

"Isn't it a little risky to be shouting in the halls during school hours, Professor? Should I find a member of the staff to take points?" Hermione scowled at him and made to go around him but he stepped into her path again. "May I ask what has you so upset this afternoon?"

She huffed and planted her hands on her hips; thinking now was as good a time as any to cut all this unspoken and unacknowledged shite out.

"No. No, you may _not_. It has to do with _Potions_, a subject you avoid like the plague, and I wouldn't want to bruise your delicate sensibilities and have you disappear for weeks at a time. Oh, wait, you already _did_ disappear. How unfortunate you chose this moment to pop back up. Bugger off, Snape." She tossed her hair for emphasis, a gesture slightly lacking when one wore a bun, and danced around him before continuing down the hall.

*

Rose and Hugo had been walking down the hall, having just finished lunch, when they heard their mother's angry voice. They picked up their pace and hurried towards the sound, arriving in time to see her stomp away. They both stopped in their tracks when they saw the caretaker. The children knew enough to scramble for cover whenever their mother's voice reached that pitch. They had seen their father take to the hills before she even got to that tone. So they were both rather stunned when they saw Mr. Snape actually _smile_. It wasn't a normal smile, by any means, but it was clear the man was _extremely_ amused. They saw him take off after their mother and exchanged worried glances. Hugo tugged on Rose's arm but she was already moving. They followed at a safe distance.

*

Hermione made it about twenty feet down the hall before she was grabbed by the sleeve and hauled sharply to the right.

"Now that you've had your little tantrum, Granger, why don't we try this again." He opened the door to an empty classroom and dragged her inside. Pulling her over to a student desk, he shoved her down into it before backing up and leaning against the teacher's desk. He managed to look elegant in his standard uniform of white work shirt, open, dark tweed waistcoat, and his black dungarees. She swallowed and pulled her thoughts into order when she realized that elegant wasn't quite the correct word.

"What happened in Sinistra's office, Granger?"

"That bitch is going to deny my staying here for an extra week or so to work on my research."

"What research?"

She gave him an openly questioning look, and he scowled and waved a hand at her to continue.

"I've developed a potion to repair damaged heart tissue."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Heart tissue doesn't regenerate," he said.

"That's what everyone has thought for ages, but recently Muggle scientists have conclusively shown that it can. I've combined their research, along with my previous work utilizing their theory of stem cell research, to create a targeted healing potion that regenerates cardiac muscle cells."

"Back up. Give me the short version of the stem cell research. Embryonic or Progenitor?"

"Do you understand the theory behind stimulating pluripotent cells to replace damaged, mature cells?"

"Yes, but it was a long way off when I was--They hadn't come close yet."

"They still haven't. They're not where they want to be. They keep running off in strange directions. Well, the theory is sound if one doesn't contemplate the ethics."

"Where do you fall on the ethics?"

"Well, that's irrelevant since I am only using the theory, not the facts. I'm not using embryonic stem cells. Muggles have managed to make pluripotent stem cells from adult epithelial cells that can then be programmed to become other types of cells."

"If we only found out recently that cardiac muscle does regenerate, then I'm assuming the process is rather slow."

Hermione's eyes lit up as she saw he had grasped where she was going.

"Exactly. I targeted the vectors that cause epithelial cells to devolve down to pluripotent cells as well as the trigger for the extremely slow process of cardiac tissue regeneration and found a catalyst. My potion will trigger a partial devolving of the cardiac tissue towards a pluripotent state but then switch to a unipotent state, therefore regenerating the cardiac tissue all at once since there is already a proven tendency towards regeneration!"

"What's the catalyst?" he asked, rubbing his finger along his top lip.

"_Magic!" _she replied with a peal of laughter.

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"If you're done being cheeky, Granger? I do have paint to scrape."

She giggled some more at his affected tone.

"No, I'm not, _Professor _Snape. You tell me: What did I find to stimulate sudden, rapid, cellular change?"

His mouth dropped open.

"Boomslang skin."

Her eyes lit up, and she looked like a pixie.

"Yes!" she shouted, kicking both legs up like a gleeful little girl and slapping her hands down repeatedly on the desktop before jumping up and dancing in a circle. "I must have used tons of it in the last three years. I was going through so much, I couldn't even afford to buy myself new clothes! I wouldn't have even had a clue about the amounts I was using if you hadn't been keeping up that inventory. For which I am in your debt, by the way."

Snape looked like he had swallowed his tongue. It took him a few moments to say anything.

"So," he cleared his throat and tried again. "So, what exactly did our esteemed Headmistress do to thwart this breakthrough?"

It was like a light went out inside of her. Her face clouded over, and her shoulders slumped, and she flopped back into her chair.

"My sudden decision to destroy my Potions storeroom set me back a good bit on my timetable." She gave him a penetrating stare, and he pursed his lips and stared at his shoes as he re-crossed his legs before looking back up at her. She let it go. "I couldn't start the final tests over Easter like I had hoped. The first stages are very delicate, and one can't use a stasis charm. I asked Madam _Sinister_ if I could stay over a bit during the summer to work on the final tests--Planq over at St Mungo's is breathing down my neck. He's their Cardio Specialist." Hermione looked down at the top of the desk and traced some carved initials. "She seemed to think it would not be in the best interests of the school, that it would be 'unseemly' if I was to publicly leave my husband for the duration. The gossip, don't you know."

"Has she no idea what that kind of breakthrough by a staff member would do for the school's prestige?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Prestige is gained by Celebrity Quidditch Matches. Lord, even Ron understands how important my research is in the grand scheme of things. Sinistra has lost her sense of direction. Whatever she used to be, and I remember her as a great teacher, all she sees now are stars of a different magnitude."

"Nonsense. She was always a celebrity whore. She was the first one here to get that ponce, Lockhart, into bed. And the Tri-Wizard Tournament was almost a publicity disaster when she managed to get and then spread a rather virulent case of spotted clap. I assure you her moral code is as fabricated as her biography in _Hogwarts: A History_."

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth and goggled at this sudden influx of too much information. Her brain seized the first thing that had stuck.

"The 'first one' to get Lockhart?"

Snape gave her an amused look and then tilted his head to the side.

"Sprout, Vector and…Dumbledore."

"No!!!"

"Oh, yes."

"Eewww! Wrinkly sex!" She slapped her hands over her ears. "I don't want to hear anymore!"

"Oh, come now, Granger. Surely you've realized by now that Hogwarts has always been a veritable cauldron of angst and melodrama?" Her humor died as she realized where that particular line of thinking would go. She saw his head straighten up as the thought occurred to him as well.

"Has she said no to your research yet?"

"No, she said she would give me an answer on Friday."

"And if I may be so intrusive, why can't your husband stay with you here while you work?"

She looked him in the eye for a long moment before dropping her gaze back to the desk top.

"Ron and I--"

"My apologies for interrupting you, Professor, but I will have to cut this conversation short." he said, startling her. She looked up to see him gliding towards the door, rubbing his chest. She stood and followed him.

"Are you alright, Severus?" she asked him with concern.

"I'm fine, just a touch of indigestion. But it appears you have people waiting to speak with you, and I really shouldn't take up any more of your time."

She looked out the classroom door to see Hugo and Rose with their backs pressed up against the wall and felt her hair stand up as she realized what she had almost revealed with her children in earshot. She looked at Severus, but he only returned a blank indifference.

"If you will excuse me, Professor," he said. "I thank you for an enjoyable conversation, and good luck with your research."

He stepped out the door, but stopped and turned to Hugo.

"A Slytherin would have at least been on the other side, behind the door, and would not have allowed their partner to eat something noisy."

With that ambiguous statement, he stalked off down the hall.

"Wow, I didn't know Mr. Snape was so smart. He sure remembers a lot about potions," said Rose, around a mouth full of crisps, trying to deflect her mother's mounting anger at their eavesdropping. "And what did he mean by that last bit, Hugo? Why would we care what a Slytherin would do?"

Hugo didn't answer. He just stared off after the caretaker.

"You two are to explain yourselves right this minute," hissed their mother. Rose scrunched up her face, knowing there was no explanation that would get them out of whatever restriction her mother already had brewing in her head.

*

* * *

*

*****practices her dance steps***** Did you see how neatly I dodged both of those massive confrontations you were hoping for? Do I have moves or what? I slay me.

Do do that voodoo that you do with reviews. Okay, that was bad.


	12. Intervention

The following Chapter is brought to you by the usual crew.

**Not Mine, No Money**

* * *

_To: Mags Skelly_

_Number 17 Knockturn Alley_

_London, England_

_15th June_

Skelly,

Send the enclosed on and all will be forgotten.

S.S.

* * *

_Draco Malfoy_

_Maison Lunardra_

_Bois du Rouquan, Fr_

_15th June_

Dear Draco,

I hope this letter finds you resting and not too petulant at your confinement. I ask of you a small favor. I need the enclosed letter sent off immediately through secure channels. It must reach its destination as soon as possible.

My apologies. I must be brief; time is a critical factor, and therefore, I cannot write you a longer note. This grieves me more than I can express when you add the fact that I have had to use up my last contact in sending this.

As this will be my last letter to you, let me say that you are constantly in my thoughts, and I look forward to the time when I can be with you. If all goes well, and I have reason to believe it will, I shall see you in approximately six more months. Not an unreasonable length of time to go without my terse words of cautious encouragement. I have a lead on some new research that might be of benefit to you. If this proves true, then it increases my already strong desire for a speedy reunion. I shall allow you to indulge in some restrained optimism, but do not get carried away. It will do me no good to find you already dead when I arrive.

Again, I wish it were possible for you to write back, but I fear it would be unwise. Your impulsive use of Filch's grand-niece was a nice touch, but she's a flighty girl, and that was dangerous. However grateful I was at receiving word from you, if you do it again, I will thrash you. Just as soon as I am free, and you are well, and provided your impetuosity doesn't land me back in Azkaban. Stay safe, boy.

Your Godfather,

Severus

* * *

_Vibius Chatwurth, Head of the Department of Medicinal Brewing_

_14 Diagon Alley, Fourth Floor_

_St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

_London, England_

_15th June_

Chatwurth,

You are, no doubt, surprised to hear from me. However, since I am a busy man, allow me to skip a lengthy explanation and cut to the chase.

I have found that there is a way for me to correct the imposition my sudden and ill-timed departure caused you twenty years ago. I am aware that you have benefited from taking custody of the rights to my former patents, but nonetheless, honor requires this final clearing of the slate.

It has come to my attention that a breakthrough in cardiac treatment is about to collapse due to insufficient nurturing of the theorist in the environment in which she works. I refer to one H. Granger-Weasley, a brilliant researcher, long denied her place and relegated to the role of mere teacher.

If you do not take measures to correct the situation by Thurs. PM., I shall arrange for her to study with me. I believe that arrangement would be mutually beneficial for both of us since I am in need of an excellent theorist, and she is in need of a more fertile working environment. Of course, it goes without saying that if she were to accept my contract, it would be under the same conditions, thrust upon myself so hastily, that caused my small debt to you in the first place. To put a finer point on it: she will fall under the same exclusivity agreement, and all of her current and future breakthroughs will be private domain.

Therefore, in generous repayment of my small debt, I am giving you less than forty-eight hours to take advantage of having one of the most stunning researchers in targeted healing potions in the field today within your grasp by Friday.

Sincerely,

Simon Shilling

_Master of Potions_

_Head of Research and Development_

_Lunardra and Shilling, Ltd._

_Bois du Rouquan, Fr._

* * *

_Healer Planq_

_Fourth Floor_

Planq,

Granger-Weasley might jump ship to France as early as tomorrow.

What the devil is going on at Hogwarts? I want that Cardiac Potion testing nailed down by tonight or heads will roll. Make it happen.

V. Chatwurth

* * *

"Ah, Prof--Hermione, do come in. I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I do hope my summons wasn't too inconvenient?"

"Er, no. Not at all, Headmistress."

"Splendid, and how is everything going with the end of term? A bit chaotic as always, no? Yes, well. I called you in here to let you know that I have approved your stay for your research. In fact, I was wondering how soon you might be able to begin."

"Oh. Thank you? I could begin on Monday, I suppose. I need to get the castle to make room in our quarters again and get Rose and Hugo settled in."

"Yes, of course. Are they staying with you first then? Marvelous."

"Well, only for the weekend. They'll be leaving on Monday to go to Malta with the Potters for two weeks--"

"And how long will you need for the potion?"

"A week, at least. I will need time to run through the tests, as well as edit the subsequent paper. It's already written, but I need to add the final data, and of course--"

"Yes, yes, not a problem. And how soon before you can commence testing? Several people have taken notice of your work and have expressed an interest in your research. I thought that we could hold a small gathering of your peers. You know, showcase how we are on the cutting edge here at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'll--I'll have to get back to you on that."

"Marvelous, see that you do."

* * *

Monday morning found Hermione in her lab, relaxed and refreshed by a wonderful weekend alone with her children. Now that the school year was over, there were so few people still at Hogwarts that they'd had the entire castle to play Hide and Seek, and the entire grounds to choose from for picnics.

Ginny had come early in the morning to whisk the kids away to Malta for two weeks. Hermione felt a pang of loss as she watched them Apparate out of sight down at the gate. The feeling of loss stayed with her for hours afterward as she reviewed her notes.

She had just finished setting out all her bottles and jars of ingredients and was about to start chopping and measuring when she was interrupted.

"There's my little apprentice!"

She couldn't stop the annoyed huff that escaped her as she heard Slughorn's voice, but thankfully, she had been facing away from the door.

"Horace! How unexpected. And who have you brought with you to my lab?" Her face was open and welcoming, but she couldn't resist the slight emphasis on the word 'my'.

"Ah, this is my very good friend Vibius Chatwurth. He's Head of the Potions Department at St. Mungo's. I do hope you don't mind that we dropped in to take a peek at your research. Aurora told us it would be fine."

"How do you do, Professor Granger-Weasley? I do hope we're not interrupting."

"Not at all, Mr. Chatwurth. I am honored, truly. I've read all your papers, including the last one on asphyxiating Hooded Vanilla Beans to enhance their calming effects in Curse Trauma victims. It was very interesting," she said, as she shook his hand firmly. "Do you asphyxiate a lot of your subjects?" she asked, distracted by Slughorn as he perused the supplies she had lain out. When she realized what she had said, she wanted to swallow her face, but mercifully, Chatwurth let out a bellow of laughter.

"No wonder Shilling considered you for his private research!" he said with a beaming smile.

"Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that."

"Simon Shilling, in France. He always was a droll bastard, and now I understand why he would take a personal interest in your research and welfare; you are both brilliant and witty. A rare combination in this field," he said with a subtle eye roll towards Slughorn. "I'll admit, I _am_ interested in how you came to Shilling's attention. No one has seen hide nor hair of him in twenty years, and then all of the sudden I get a letter out of the blue telling me that I have two days to take advantage of your research, or he will steal you out from under all of us."

Hermione was completely thunderstruck. Her mind raced to put all the pieces together and figure out what was playing out here in front of her dazed mind. The only explanation she could come up with was that Severus was playing the bluff of the century on her behalf. Her mind went into overdrive as she digested this new development. After having listened to Phineas explain the various intricacies of Slytherin tactics until she wanted to scream, she knew enough to understand that she was expected to take advantage of Severus' action on her behalf and parley it into personal gain. She just had no idea how to do it, or how long she could spin it without falling on her Gryffindor face. _I wonder what Severus will do when he finds out I know about Simon Shilling?_

"I…believe I came to his notice while still a student here at Hogwarts," she said, while actually thinking: _'Merlin, I hope not. That would be just…gross.' _"I had done a bit of precocious experimentation with Polyjuice alternatives." _Like turning myself into a cat_. "Anyway, I've communicated with him only infrequently, and I don't think he knew of my latest research until very recently." _Last Monday, to be exact. _"Since becoming a Potions mistress here at the school, I have spoken with him about potions on just one occasion," she answered with total honesty.

A metallic scraping outside the door caused them all to turn their heads. Slughorn and Chatwurth looked back towards her just before the school caretaker came into view, mopping the floor with an utterly malicious smirk on his face. _Well, that answers the question of what he would think if he found out I knew it was him. Bastard. _

"You've actually spoken to him?" gasped Slughorn. "When was this? We didn't know he was in the country! How extraordinary! Such a secretive man."

"Well, he is a bit reclusive, isn't he? I probably shouldn't have mentioned it. It was just the one time, and I had no idea he thought so highly of my work after our conversation."

"Are you able to contact him?" asked Chatwurth. "I would love to find out what areas his research has explored in these last years. The man was utterly brilliant."

"Yes, we do communicate by some rather esoteric means," she replied, turning towards the door and giving Severus a stern look. "I believe he is currently mopping up some old experiments."

"Fascinating!" added Chatwurth.

"Indeed," she replied. "You have no idea."

"Well," said Chatwurth, clapping his hands together. "Enough about that old codger. How about you telling me what the next bright young star in the field is up to?"

Hermione looked out the door at the phrase 'old codger' with her own textbook-perfect, malicious smirk. Snape glowered at her, but she could still see the humor in his eyes. He nodded to her slightly and lifted the bucket and left.

She turned back towards the two gentlemen and began to explain her research and the Muggle breakthroughs on which it was based. It was more than apparent that her work had far outstripped anything Slughorn could have taught her, and she preened under their glowing praise. Hermione felt she was on top of the world.

It was almost an hour later, as they were discussing the components and binders, that fate reached out and slapped her back down to earth with a cruel hand.

"I see you are using powdered Rhesus Adrenals," said Slughorn with his affected, fatherly chuckle and held up the still-unopened container. "I'm sure a dedicated Potions mistress such as yourself remembered to cast her self-diagnostic charms beforehand." Hermione was about to make her usual mildly-hostile reply when she froze. A cold finger trailed up her spine and clawed at her scalp.

"Actually, Horace, you gentlemen interrupted me before I had a chance. Why don't you be a dear and measure out 16.24 grains for me while I gather together some of my other things. I'm sure there's no need, but why take even slight risks, yes?"

"Absolutely, my dear. I would be honored." Slughorn set to measuring and Hermione walked over to gather the cauldrons and set them out on the counter. Chatwurth grabbed a handful of ladles and stirring rods, prepping her station, while she struggled to keep her face from reflecting the now-constant wail in her head. The sound of footsteps brought her head up quickly towards the door as the Headmistress swept in.

"Professor, you aren't actually making our esteemed guests work, are you? I'm shocked!" she said with a coquettish laugh that destroyed what was left of Hermione's nerves. "It's a good thing I came when I did, gentlemen. There is a small luncheon being served out on the lawn, and I have come to ask you to join us. Please, we would be so honored to have you. It's a small gathering, really… just a few luminaries from varying fields here to have an impromptu little Think Tank."

"Well, we were just about to assist Professor Gra--"

"No! You mustn't even think it, Mr. Chatwurth. The Headmistress is right," Hermione said. "I assure you, this part is quite boring and will be for the next several days. If you would like, when I notify Healer Planq that the potion is ready for testing, I can send you an owl as well. How would that sound?" She gave him her best happy face, and he seemed to accept it.

"Alright, Professor, we'll leave you in peace. It has been an honor and a rare pleasure to meet you, Madam. I will look forward to getting that owl, and we'll be here for the final test."

She shook hands with him and then, seeing Slughorn had finished portioning the damning ingredient and had tightly sealed the jar again, she accepted his warm hug and walked them to the door of her lab. When they were out of sight, she looked around to make sure the hallways were completely empty, and then closed the door and fell back against it.

_No!_ Her panic was unleashed. _It was only once, just the once. It took us months of trying before._ She struggled for rationality as she pulled her wand out of her sleeve and cast the charm Slughorn had mentioned. The charm all women who work with potions ingredients cast before every encounter with certain ingredients. A charm she had been out of the habit of casting for over three years because there was no need. Just as there had been no need for the contraceptive charm. She was sure she knew the answer even before she found herself staring at the diagnostic glimmer that hovered over her belly confirming her fears. An extra flick, and it turned pale blue. So. Ron would have another chance at a boy he could deal with after all.

In her mind, the bars of Hermione's cage contracted until she could barely see any light between them.

* * *

It was midnight before Snape finished his chores. Sinistra always seemed to take special care to disallow him respite once the school had shut down for the summer. She filled his list of chores with as many projects as she could to keep him running. This afternoon it had been oiling and repairing all of the hinges on the mullioned windows in Ravenclaw tower, followed by sanding and waxing all the wooden floors in the dormitory.

He was beyond tired, and his body ached, but he had kept his spirits by imagining Hermione working diligently aside the supercilious-but-respected Chatwurth, proving her own mettle, and finally receiving her due.

He was still amused by her atrocious attempt to explain her connection to the world-famous recluse, Simon Shilling. It was only when it had become obvious that she knew who the man really was that he had taken pity on her and made his presence known. He knew her annoyance would free up her mind. Her wordplay was always at its best when she was angry.

He headed for her lab, hoping she would still be there so he could bask a little in her happiness before retreating to his room for the night, but as he got closer to the lower levels of the castle, an alien anxiety began to weigh on him. He was heartened to see the lights were still on and hurried into the lab.

He found her standing at the counter, stirring a small cauldron. He made enough noise so as not to startle her at a delicate moment and was alarmed when he saw her hunch her shoulders as if in fear. Looking at her body language, she was already exhausted, and no wonder, she had probably been working straight through for these last thirteen hours. He wondered if she had remembered to eat. Probably not. He'd noticed early on that she had the same monomania when brewing that he'd suffered from.

He wrestled with the urge to go over and hold her, to stand at her back and support her, physically, while she created her first masterpiece. He shook his hair out of his face. It helped to clear his mind of such foolish thoughts. Moving any closer than he was already would be a dangerously foolish thing to do. Now that he knew the significance of the charge that passed between them when they touched. Now that he understood it was more than just lust and need, he couldn't risk her becoming suspicious whilst he was still under the geas of the debt.

"Winky," he called. The elf popped up immediately.

"What can Winky do for the sir?"

"Can you bring some tea and some soup and bread for the Professor?"

The elf popped out before the sound of her agreement had even faded.

"Granger, how long until you can stop?" he asked. "Did you eat lunch or dinn--" His words fell away when she lifted her face and looked at him. She never stopped stirring, and her head fell back down as if it was too heavy a burden.

"What happened?" he asked, struck to the quick by her swollen eyes and tear-streaked face. Could something have gone wrong between her and Chatwurth? They seemed to be getting along fine when he had left. He had been sure that a man with not only a keen mind, but such a truly Hufflepuff sensibility as Chatwurth would have taken a shine to Granger.

He approached her when she didn't respond.

Winky popped back in with a tray, and he had her set it on the lab table behind them before assuring the elf they needed nothing more.

Snape was at a loss as to what to do now.

"Granger, can you stop? Do you want me to stir, while you get a bit of tea?" He growled to himself for how much like a Hufflepuff _he_ now sounded. He was already changing. A small voice inside raged against it, but was easily ignored in the face of her apparent despair.

She still didn't respond, and his worry grew. He came up and risked laying a hand on her right shoulder, careful to avoid skin, and then reached out and grasped the top of the constantly-moving stirring rod, matching her movement and strokes while starting a count of his own. Once he had a firm grip he pulled her arm away and somehow wasn't surprised when she twisted around and threw herself at him. A frantic pull on his collar closed the neck of his shirt to avoid any skin contact, and then he wrapped his free hand around her back and pulled her tight against him, tearing himself in two.

"Tell me," he growled.

"One hundred and sixty-five more from…now," was all she said before tucking her head into his chest.

They stood like that, wrapped in each other's arms in silence as he stirred. His muscles, already strained from his work, protested almost immediately and as he counted off the stirs, his forearm began to burn from the strain.

"How many more steps tonight?" he asked.

He felt her breath through his shirt as she turned her face against him to speak.

"After this it needs to rest for six hours before being brought back up to temperature."

A moment of sanity struck and he tried to pry her off, to send her away. She clung tighter, and so he hugged her closer instead. It was maddeningly pleasurable to hold her like this. He knew she felt it too. Not as strongly, no. Otherwise there would be suspicion and questions. Questions that could lead to an understanding that could kill him. She might have been too emotionally confused and under the influence of too much wine the first time, but there would be no hiding it from her a second time.

"Granger, what happened?" he said softly in her ear, only to feel her start to shake. "Did something go wrong with Slughorn and Chatwurth?"

"No," she said, and his heart sped up at the feel of her lips moving on his chest.

"Sinistra?"

She shook her head.

"No. I don't want to talk about it right now. Can't you just hold me, please? I just…need a friend."

A friend. She needed a friend, and he needed something very different… something not even remotely allowable. He felt the panic at the danger he was in trying to break loose from his control. He scowled and maintained his silence and kept her close until he had finished the count. He lifted the stirring rod, holding it perpendicular long enough to drip back into the base. Then he grabbed her dragon-hide glove and folded it over the rim, lifting the small cauldron one-handed and setting it on a trivet.

Hermione started to gently nuzzle his chest as his muscles bunched and stretched under her cheek, and her hands moved to caress his sides. He knew she could hear his heartbeat speeding up under her ear. His mind started into a violent maelstrom as his soul fought against its fetters.

"Severus," she said in a distant voice, "if I asked you, would you--"

He shoved her back by her shoulders.

"No," he said. He couldn't. He had to stop this, once and for all. She might not be committed. Perhaps he could divert her. Her wounded gaze dropped to the floor, and he turned her and pushed her towards the tea. "You will sit, and you will eat. Whatever it is that you don't want to talk about, I suspect it has impaired your judgment, and I refuse to be used in such a way."

Her head came up and her eyes snapped with anger and embarrassment at his rejection.

"So, you don't like being left in the dark? Not knowing what it is that has another so obviously twisted up in pain? Good. Taste your own potion, Severus," she snapped.

"You can fault me for keeping my own council, Granger, but you can hardly accuse me of wanting to use others to assuage my petty, personal tragedies."

Her eyes flew wide, and her mouth dropped open.

"That's not--_Petty? _How _dare_ you! Get out!" she hissed. _"Get out!" _Her face was an open reflection of her anguished soul, but he told himself that anger was better than the crushing sadness he had walked in on. At least he had given her that.

Severus gathered himself up and gave her a last ambiguous look before stalking out the door. He heard the wet crash of the teapot hitting the wall behind him, but he didn't stop.

He turned away from his quarters and let his frustration carry him up out of the dungeons, and out of the castle, until he was stalking across the grounds towards the lake where the squid lolled indolently in the moonlight.

His mind was a seething pit of self-hatred and fury. She had turned to him in her pain, and he had no choice but to push her away. No _choice_, that constant theme of his life, ever since he had made that last, infamous choice at seventeen. It was a choice he'd made in a mood not even a little different from the one he was in now. And now, even as his bond with the woman pulled him towards her, the life debt stood between them, firm and implacable, all because of his utter lack of control on the night of the ball. Had he been able to curb his desire until he had his own body back, he could have offered her the comfort she had needed tonight, and any other night she demanded it of him. He would have given himself completely. Now he doubted he ever could.

* * *

Phineas Nigellus Black waited patiently in Weeping Willa's frame in the Entrance Hall of the castle. Violet had been visiting with the perpetually sad portrait when the former Headmaster had stormed past with a murderous scowl on his face. She had alerted the rest of them. Whatever had sent Snape storming out of the castle, Phineas had agreed with Albus that it was time for a direct approach. They, in turn, agreed that it was best handled with some subtlety. Snape was notorious for disregarding the concerned inquiries of Gryffindors.

Albus and Minerva had gone in search of the Potions mistress, Willa had gone over to Violet's portrait to finish whatever conversation they had been having, and Phineas had been sitting here pondering again what the connecting puzzle piece was that he knew he had seen and then missed.

A large part of his nature was frustrated that he was swept up in such a sordid display. But he had to admit that another sizable part of him had always enjoyed being part of the action. Besides, the fact that whatever was going on affected the only two living persons that commanded his respect and loyalty added an extra weight to both his curiosity and his conscience.

His thoughts tapered off at the sound of the front door creaking open. Snape entered the castle slowly, letting the door close behind him.

"Good evening, Headmaster. Was it an enjoyable night for a walk?"

Snape turned, and upon seeing Black, scanned the rest of the room to find only empty frames.

"Ah, the direct approach. I had wondered when they would resort to that, but I hardly would have thought you the most likely candidate, Black. Peer pressure? At your age?"

The barb bounced off, being expected.

"I had the means of running interference at my disposal and took advantage of it to spare you discomfort," he said, a gambit to immediately set the man in debt.

Snape waved a hand, thus signifying the debt was negligible in the face of whatever else was going on. The gambit failed. Phineas tried another tack, one to jar a response, trying to force a clue.

"Have you seen Professor Granger-Weasley this evening? She has not come back to her office today, and I was curious as to how she had made out with starting up her test today."

Snape's eyes narrowed at the portrait. A direct hit.

"This is the part where I make an inane comment to deflect your interest isn't it?" he said, stepping closer to the portrait. "I've been gone too long, and I'm too tired, Black. I don't want to dance. Let's go ahead and play with the direct approach and see what that gets us, hmm? Leave me be. I know what you want, and I cannot give it to you. Tell Albus and Minerva that throwing stones at the squid is never a good idea. If you want a fresh mystery, you can round up your co-conspirators and find out what happened to Granger today that has her so upset." He stepped back and gave the portrait a tired look. "Leave me be, Black. I'm no longer a part of this world. Let me serve my time and leave it."

"But Severus, where will you go?" the portrait asked with uncharacteristic forthrightness. The emotion in his voice startled him as well as Snape.

"My first obligation is to Draco. I will ensure that he is well and get him back on his feet, if I can. After that? I will find somewhere to start over, Phineas. I am a survivor," he replied gently, before turning and walking away.

It wasn't until the former Headmaster was out of sight that the important, missing piece fell into place, and Phineas understood what had been right in front of his face all along. Snape _hadn't_ survived through his own effort. Phineas might not have even put the final, tawdry detail into place if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting in the very same portrait frame as he had on the night of the gala. He turned and looked towards the doors of the Great Hall and saw the ghost of a passionate embrace and the malignant stare that had first set his fine, painted hairs on edge.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid, Slytherin boy," he said with feeling.

The weight of truth fell upon Phineas and crushed the will to _tell_ the truth right out of him. As much as he regretted keeping the others in the dark, he now understood why Snape had been uncharacteristically straightforward in trying to deflect their concern.

Phineas decided to gather more information before deciding if full disclosure was in anyone's best interest. Secondary life debts were not to be trifled with.

*

* * *

*

Reviews needed. Inquire within...


	13. Truth and Consequences

AN: Thanks to my girls. And now, a little angst, a little madness, and a very important answer...

* * *

Hermione had only made it through the week because of her obligations. Had it not been for the people depending on her potion, she would have collapsed into a catatonic mess.

She had started to work on her potion in the aftermath of Minerva's death. She'd escaped into her research to avoid the disintegrating relationships with not only her husband, but her coworkers as well. It had been her escape as Sinistra had strengthened her hold on power, to the detriment of both Albus' and Minerva's reputations.

Now, five years later, she had finally perfected the potion that would have saved her friend and mentor's life.

She almost didn't care.

She stood impassively off to the side, as Planq, Chatwurth and Slughorn verified the results on the tissue samples. She knew the results would be a success; she hadn't left any room for failure. She also knew that as soon as her paper was published, her success would be assured. When St. Mungo's had finished its testing and certified the potion, her reputation would be set and doors would open.

At that point, she could have been free to leave the school and move into the rarified circles of Potions Theory. Ron could have left to find his own happiness, and with the lessening of tension between them, they could have come to a mature arrangement for the children.

But as she listened to the excited chatter of the two senior brewers and the Healer, all she felt was numbness, knowing it wouldn't play out that way, now that she was pregnant.

She hadn't told Ron yet. She didn't know how to. Ron would never agree to leave if he had another child on the way. Let him run around free as a bird wherever he was, for now. There would be time enough to pull his pin feathers later.

That numbness had first settled in the morning after she'd found out. She had woken up on the transfigured camp bed, when Winky had arrived with a tray of food. She hadn't questioned where it had come from. The only reason the elf would have shown up out of the blue, at five in the morning, was if she had been told to, and Hermione hadn't asked it of her. That only left Snape.

She'd almost turned her nose up at the food but the growling of her stomach had overruled petulance. Her anger and shame had returned the minute she'd finished her meal. Her anger was two-fold, she was furious at herself for even contemplating her own adultery, and quixotically angry with him for the way he had thrown her offer back in her face. Her shame stemmed from those too things as well. She was humiliated by the way she had reached out to him in her confusion, pain and need, and for the assumption that he would be receptive. She knew he was attracted to her, but she also knew he had decided not to act upon it. Even Phineas had warned her to stay away, but her mind had become so muddled, and his comfort had been such a balm. She'd presumed it was the shock that had left her unable to stop her hands from roaming across his body. She could still hear his heart pounding in his chest and the hitch in his breathing when she had begun to ask him if he wanted to…well. Best not to think of that. After all, he hadn't even let her finish before he'd shoved her away leaving her without so much as a scrap of dignity with which to clothe herself, and abandoning her to a fury that had actually lasted until she had fallen into the exhausted sleep that Winky's arrival had roused her from.

She'd still been seething when woken, but she'd needed to get on with prepping the next stages, and it was easier to think about just how much of a bastard he was than the complete mess she had made of her life by getting pregnant. It didn't take long for the self-persecution to set in though. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have let herself get that drunk? Whatever had caused that electric frisson between her and Ron that night, almost to the point of visible sparks, had obviously fuddled her mind. Clearly, she hadn't been thinking. The sex hadn't even been that good. Okay, it had been bloody amazing up until she'd realized she was humping another man in her head, after that it had been too much of a jumble of pleasurable sensations heaped upon angry suspicion, and slathered in guilt. Ron had managed to get her off, but only by doing something foolish, something that had almost sucked all her magic out. The sparks had disappeared as well. They had brushed hands often enough during meals in the Great Hall for her to know that whatever magic had been at work that night, had dissipated. Ron didn't seem to care. And now, of course, as if fate decreed it, just when they could both see the dawn peeking over the horizon, they had gone and ruined their chance of freedom by being irresponsible and getting pregnant. She still could work towards another career. At least she had already proved herself enough for that to be possible. Perhaps Ron could go back into the Quidditch world and she could immerse herself in her work and their separate lives would be fulfilling enough that they wouldn't tear each other apart in front of the children. As long as he kept his mistresses discrete.

It was almost odd how calmly she'd accepted that fact. There would be mistresses. And someday, perhaps, like Narcissa Malfoy, she would disintegrate to the point that she would take a meaningless lover as a form of petty revenge as well. But it wouldn't be Sev--Snape. It would never be Snape. Not if she had even a shred of dignity left.

In the week between her night of self-recrimination and the present, her thoughts had spun around and around until eventually they had blurred into a pall of sad indifference. She had made it through on the occasional meal provided by Winky, and by that Thursday morning, she'd been able to smell herself more strongly than the odiferous potion. She had been keeping the door to her lab locked and warded and had no idea if anyone had come by or not, only leaving to use the faculty restroom, keeping her head down and feet moving each time. When her potion had finally been ready, she'd sent off her owl and fled the dungeons for the sanctuary of her own quarters. She'd scrubbed herself pink and crawled between the sheets and slept straight through until earlier that morning.

She had come down before breakfast to clean up the lab and get ready for the test. She'd found the room spotless and her potion in stoppered beakers in the center of the counter, with her notes, neat and tidy, beside them. The rest of the room gleamed and only the camp bed sat there, waiting to be transfigured back into a table. It didn't take an expert on speaking Slytherin to get the message, but it had only made her angrier.

Hearing a slight noise out in the hall, she'd turned to see Snape himself, standing just outside the door, looking at her with an intense, but guarded, expression. She'd returned his stare with no expression at all and had flicked her wand, slamming the door in his face and locking it. She'd added an extra flare to the wards just in case he didn't get the message the first two times. Let him get a reminder of how Gryffindors communicate non-verbally. She had steadfastly ignored the fact that he had looked terrible. That was not her problem anymore. He'd made that perfectly clear.

Her feelings toward Snape had made her vulnerable, and he had hurt her through that weakness. She couldn't turn her feelings for him off completely, but she hoped she could let her anger remain dominant long enough for the feelings to choke and die for lack of oxygen.

With what she was going to face in the coming months, weakness had no place. This baby needed her, and she would do what she could to protect it. There was no reason for the child to be affected by the tragic circumstances of its conception.

"You know you can use this potion and the subsequent paper to go for your Mastery even before the trials at St. Mungo's, Professor."

Hermione was startled from her thoughts into the present and blinked several times before focusing on Chatwurth, standing right in front of her. How had she missed the end of the test?

"My apologies--"

"No need," he said with a smile. "You're not the first brilliant theorist to need a holiday after working so hard on such an amazing breakthrough. Indeed, I think my first healing potion damned near sent me to the Janus Thickey ward, by the time I had finished it, and it was no where near the level of your work. You should be proud, young lady, and you should also go get some rest. You do look pale and tired. Horace and I can finish up here and Desmond," he gestured to Healer Planq, "can makes copies of all his notes to leave for you. I bet you haven't even eaten properly all week."

She smiled wanly, thinking of all the meals that had been sent that she had left to go cold.

"You are correct, Mr. Chatwurth. I think I'll take you up on your offer."

"Call me Vibi, It's my hope that we might have the opportunity to work together as equals in the future, and it would be best to get all our Misters and Mistresses out of the way, don't you think?"

She paled even more, as his offhand compliment turned into an unintended offhand slap. She composed herself and smiled as warmly as possible.

"Then you must call me Hermione."

"Indeed, Hermione. It has been a great honor to be here today."

She shook his hand and then Healer Planq's, before giving Slughorn an honestly affectionate hug, which he returned with sincerity and pride.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I will, indeed, leave you to it, then. I will send you a copy of my paper when I have finished it."

"And you will think about publishing it and using it for your Mastery?"

She smiled, brightly.

"I just might do that," she replied.

She bid them farewell and turned and left the lab. She walked straight down the corridor and straight up the stairs. She didn't hear Minerva's portrait calling to her as she walked straight out of the castle. She walked down the path and through the gate and when she reached the marker, she pulled out her wand and Apparated to her parents' house. She never turned to see the silent figure ghosting along behind her. She didn't know that he had stood, just inside the gate, for a long while after she had vanished.

* * *

Hermione spent four days with her parents, basking in the unconditional love and support, while she tried to get a handle on her pregnancy. She had told her mother almost everything about her relationship with Ron these last fifteen years and about the sudden, marked disintegration in the last year and a half. She had not gone into Ron's infidelities. She knew her mother would tell her father, and there was just too much chance that her father would tell his Saturday golf partner, Arthur. Letting Ginny know had been a bit of a disaster. Having Arthur find out, without at least warning Ron, would be just too much drama for an already explosive situation.

Her mother had been a rock, only pausing for a moment to adjust to the news before zeroing in on the pertinent conundrum.

"How will you go about telling Ron?"

"I don't know yet. We had really just come to an agreement and a timetable to end it all. He's always been against the idea of divorce. He'd only just come around to the idea. Now… I just don't know."

"Well, I'll let you decide. I've no advice that will be of any use. If it helps, I think Ron would be above taking his frustration out on the child. He does love his children, so you don't have to fear that he would be less of a father to this one than he is to Rose and Hugo, just because a new baby will complicate things."

"I hope so. He's been a bit unstable lately."

"Where is he staying now?"

"He's off with Seamus and Banquo on holiday in Ireland. We'll meet up at the Burrow, when the children get back from vacation. We'll stay there for a few days and then head home for the rest of the summer."

"It looks like you're going to be short on private time. Do you want to bring the children here for a few days and have some time alone with Ron to talk?"

"That might be a good idea. I'll let you know."

* * *

Hermione came back to the castle late on the following Tuesday evening. She hurried to her lab and gathered her notes and then dashed to her office to collect more of her research and her unfinished paper.

"And good evening to you, too, Professor," Phineas sniffed, as she stuffed her papers into a satchel. He had been worried sick about the chit for days and was rather put out by her lack of greeting.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, Headmaster Black. I have a lot of things on my mind and am dreadfully distracted. Forgive my rudeness. How are you this evening?"

"I am well, thank you. I have yet to hear how your final test went."

"Oh! It went as predicted, it was a total success. Mr. Chatwurth wants me to present my paper early for my Mastery."

"Congratulations, Professor. It was long overdue."

"Thank you, Phineas," she said with a smile.

"So, to where did you disappear?"

"I went to my parents for an extended weekend. I--I needed the rest."

"Ah, exhaustion? From the trial?"

"Yes, that was it."

"And nothing else? No other issues weighing down on you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the portrait.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well I ask, namely, because Headmaster Snape asked us to see if _we _could find out what was bothering _you_. Interesting turnabout, don't you think? But we couldn't, because you'd shut yourself up in your lab for a week, and then left the castle without word."

Hermione couldn't have missed the subtle censure in his tone, nor could she stop the anger from spreading across her face.

"Well, I apologize for any undue concern I gave you, but I don't see where my affairs are any of Snape's business."

"Ah, and how is it he is demoted to being Snape and not Severus or even Mr. Snape?"

"I would prefer not to discuss that, thank you. I have to go, and there really isn't the time. Suffice it to say that he has made it clear that he would prefer to remain distant, and I have finally seen the merit of his position. Rest assured, any expression of concern on his part is only to ease his conscience, and I am not interested."

"I have no doubt you are right about that, young lady. Whatever he did to you, it's obvious he is suffering for his actions."

She looked up at him quickly.

"How so?"

"I won't burden you with the details, my dear. You are obviously in a hurry."

"Phineas," she snarled.

"Fine, but don't forget I tried to spare you," he said as her eyes narrowed into a glare. "It's just that I have seen him walking the halls in these past days with an air about him I have only seen one other time."

"And that was…?" she asked, with increasing irritation at her own concern, her own weakness.

"After Lily Evans died," Phineas said softly.

Hermione flinched as if from a blow and sat down hard in her chair. It didn't make sense. Was he really that hurt by his own actions? Did he really care for her that much? Then why did he push her away? She was as good as his for the taking if he had wanted her in that way. He'd not only pushed her away, but had made her look venal and pathetic in the process. No. It wasn't her. Something else must have happened that was unrelated.

"I'm sorry, Phineas. Whatever has happened to him, it couldn't have been me. I will level with you, to my own mortification. You know he had basically said he wasn't interested in my friendship, yes? Well, last week, in a moment of weakness, I crossed a line. Let's just say that he is not interested in anything else, either."

It was Phineas' turn to reel back in surprise.

"Are you sure?" he asked, unthinkingly, only to receive an irritated stare in return. "Yes, well. My apologies. That was uncouth. I am just surprised."

"Not as surprised as I was, I assure you," she replied, drolly. She shoved the last of her papers into the bag and swung the satchel up onto her shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I need to finish working on my paper, and I need to get away from this damnable castle. I'm going home to Cumbria. Ronald is gone for another week and the children as well. I can get at least five days of uninterrupted writing done in Garrigill. I will see you at the start of term, Phineas. Take good care of yourself. As for Severus, I leave him, and his mysteries, to you and the others. I wash my hands of him. I have other priorities now."

The portrait watched her as she left and heard the click of the lock and the hum of her wards. He sat there with his thoughts for a good ten minutes before dashing out of his frame to go in search of the caretaker. There was another piece of the puzzle missing after all, and he had no intention of waiting to find out what it was.

* * *

Hermione Apparated to the secluded stand of trees behind an isolated cottage. She and Ron had purchased it after his first year as a professional Quidditch player. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the loamy scents and felt her cares lessen the strength of their claws. She loved this place. She had felt an affinity for the cottage as soon as she saw it, as if it had called to her. They had purchased it from an elderly witch who was moving in with her granddaughter and it was already secret-kept. It had been only a slight matter to switch the secret keeper, Harry, of course, and although it remained unused for most of the year, every time she came back it felt like home.

She opened her eyes and headed towards the back door but stopped. Lights were on in the house. She crept along and peeked in several lace-covered windows, noticing a candle burning in the sitting room and a lamp left on in the kitchen, until she came to the bedroom window, where she found herself eye to arse with Ron as he ground his hips into a curvy blonde. She backed away, at first in surprise, then in pain, but finally she stopped stepping backwards and moved towards the door in seething anger. She had assumed he would cheat on her again while away, and had come to terms with that. It had never occurred to her he would bring his mistress to her home. Her secret-kept home. Her secret-kept bed. By the time she had let herself into the kitchen and set her things down, she had turned to stone.

When Ron came into the kitchen a little while later, to investigate the sound of tea things being prepared, he found his wife, suspiciously calm, sipping chamomile at the table. Waiting for him. She was almost amused at the shade of gray he achieved.

"Mione?" he gasped. One hand held his wand and the other clutched at the sheet wrapped around his hips.

"Surprise."

"What--Oh, Merlin, Mi--I can explain…"

"Oh, please don't. I find I am really not in the mood. Close your mouth and sit down, while I go over some rules." She waited until he collapsed into a chair before standing up and pacing. "Rule number one: You do not touch any surface I sleep on, ever again. Rule number two: You will never, ever, bring one of your women into any place where I live. Rule number three: We will be civil and courteous in public and around the children, but you will never speak to me again in private. I have nothing further to say to you. You will take your whore and you will leave. Now."

He stood up, angry at being spoken to in such a way.

"Now listen here--" His anger was cut short as she hexed the sheet and it burst into flames. He ripped it away from his body and threw it to the ground, stamping the flames out.

"Rule number four: If you break any of the previous rules, I will make you pay. Do we have an understanding? If you have anything you need to say to me, send an owl. Now get out of my sight. I have seen enough of your pathetic bits for a lifetime."

Later, after she had changed the sheets on the bed and burned the old ones, she sat at the table and tried to figure out how to bring up the subject of a new baby after the night's events. She decided it would be best not to any time soon. Maybe not until after the new term started. Or maybe, after their son was born. Or perhaps she would be kind enough to send Ron an invitation to his son's wedding. That sounded good.

She doused the lights and headed for bed.

* * *

Snape came up from the Hufflepuff common room and out into the hall. He started towards the broom closet to put away his things, but was disturbed by a hissing noise. He looked around until he spotted Phineas Black gesturing at him from another painting down the hall.

"Black, what has gotten into you? You sound like you've sprung a leak."

"Meet me down in the Entrance Hall at the portrait of Willa Lacrimosa."

"Black, I don't have time for this. Tell Albus--"

"Do it now, boy. I won't ask nicely again." With that, Phineas took off out of the frame, leaving a surprised Snape in his wake.

He put away his equipment and headed towards the entrance.

*

When he arrived at the Entrance Hall it was to find all the paintings had been abandoned and only Headmaster Black was waiting for him.

"What's this all about--"

"What did you do to her, Snape?"

Snape stopped and gave the portrait a confused look.

"I'm talking about Hermione. What did you do to her last week," Phineas snapped.

Snape gave him a disgusted look and turned away.

"I know about the life debt, boy."

A hand came up and pressed against his chest, but Snape felt no answering pain, no imminent death. He looked at Phineas in complete surprise.

"It only hurts you if you try to tell someone, Severus. I figured it out myself. I know he's called upon the life debt, as shocking as that is. I know about the Polyjuice. I even know what Weasley made you do for the last ball. I've figured out a lot of things lately, but I can't figure out why she looked me in the eye, tonight, and told me you weren't interested in her when I know that to be a lie."

"Tonight? She was here?"

"Yes, she came to collect her notes before going home to Cumbria to finish her paper. Now I will ask you again. What did you do to her? She basically confessed to offering herself to you, and yet you rejected her. I need to know why. I'm caught between loyalties here, Snape. Give me a reason to keep my peace, or when she comes back in September I will tell her the truth."

"You mustn't!"

"Why?"

"It will hurt her more."

"What hurt her was turning to you and being slapped to the ground."

"I know."

"Why did you do it?"

"I had to."

"I don't understand. It can't be the life debt, or am I wrong in assuming you slept with the woman while parading around as the ginger peril?"

Snape didn't answer; he just hung his head.

"Damned fool thing to do, Snape. But I'm thinking I don't need to put too fine a point on it; it looks like you've been stabbed clean through by the point already."

Snape looked at him and clenched his jaw.

"Explain to me, since you already slept with her once, why would you spurn her when she comes to you as you really are? If sleeping with her the first time didn't kill you, and I have to admit the why of that puzzles me, what, in the seven hells, could keep you from doing so again?"

Snape heaved a sigh and closed his eyes before answering.

"The life debt won't allow me to. If she finds out, through me, that Weasley never attended the ball, I am a dead man."

"Oh, and you're so memorable in the sack that she will recognize your technique? Aren't you full of yourself? Pick a different position, boy. What the hell is the matter with you?"

Phineas backed off at the furious look in the other man's eye.

"Tell me, Black. What do you know of their wedding ceremony?"

"Why the hell would I know that? It's not like I was invited. As far as I know, they had it at his family estate. I think she had some of her kind there as well." He saw Snape waiting for him to make a connection so he kept his mind focused on all the little, small comments he had overheard through these last five years, including comments overheard when he was at his portrait in Grimmauld Place. "They had a civil ceremony, I believe. A Muggle thing." Phineas saw the man go still as stone, an expectant look on his face, and thought furiously. Finally he seized two random facts and they clicked together. "Circe, they never bonded! Is that it?" The look on the other man's face told him the rest of the story.

"A spontaneous bonding? Oh, Severus, tell me it's not true," Phineas said with profound sympathy.

"Alas, I cannot."

"How can she not know?"

"She is Muggleborn, as you said. As gifted as she is, she's always been slow to understand certain aspects of our society," he replied, and then he dropped his head and brought his hands up to fist in his hair. "And she was completely drunk."

"I won't tell you how much more of a bastard that makes you."

Snape just nodded his head.

"What…happened?"

"Nothing happened! How could anything have happened with my fucking magic bound up like this?" He wrenched his sleeve back and exposed both the iron cuff and his Dark Mark.

"But it would have, wouldn't it?"

Snape nodded his head and then mumbled an answer and Phineas had to strain to hear it.

"Her magic tried. It poured out of her. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. But mine couldn't answer, and so the bonding wasn't completed. It's been battering around inside of me, whenever she is near, ever since."

Phineas shook his head in awed surprise and commiseration.

"How did you explain that?"

"I didn't. She decided that her husband had learned some new technique that almost turned her into a Squib." Phineas looked startled at the thought of such an illogical conclusion. "As I said, she was quite drunk and a bit slow on the uptake."

"Well, that will keep her out of his bed for a while longer." Snape glared daggers at him but he brushed his expression aside with a negligent wave of his hand. "So she really will know it was you if you take her to your bed."

"I fear she will know it was me if our hands brush together on accident."

"And if you hadn't met your…needs, the night of the ball, you could be with her now because the Soul Bond would take precedence over the life debt."

They shared a look of incredulity at the situation.

"Poor Weasley," Phineas said at last. Snape gave him a venomous look and snarled but Phineas wasn't daunted. "Just think about it, Snape. He saved your life. After that, he turned around and married your Soul Mate. Your bond with the woman has been trying to push him away for fifteen years. All these years they have been miserable, not knowing. He must have loved her deeply to have lasted this long, and she had to feel a deep regard for him as well. Gods, and then you showed up here. Fate is a fickle bitch." Phineas ran a painted hand through hair, carefully rendered in oils. "It's a wonder any of you are sane. _Are_ any of you sane? Has it started already? How has Weasley survived? Holding a life debt while caught between a Soul Bond. He's strong. You need to use caution, Severus. He's been fighting the bond for fifteen years, he could become violent as things break down even more."

"I am well aware of those facts, Black."

"Yes, I imagine you are. The question is, what do you intend to do about them?"

Snape collected himself and stood straight.

"I intend to do nothing. I leave here in less than six months. I see no reason to change plans."

"See no--What kind of nonsense is this? She's your _Soul Mate_, Snape. You can't just walk away from this!"

"I can and I will. She is unaware of the bond between us. What possible good would it do to tell her? She is on the cusp of having everything she has ever wanted at her fingertips. Do you honestly think it would be in her best interest to fall into disgrace because she had the unfortunate luck to be born with a Soul Bond to a Death Eater and convicted felon?"

"It's not like you have a choice!"

"I _never_ have a choice!" he screamed. The echoes rang out throughout the school. "But I can choose not to drag her down with me!" he hissed in a quieter voice.

"But it will drive her mad! You've already--"

"It won't. Not if she doesn't find out. Her children will keep her soul grounded. It wasn't my body that she touched and the bonding couldn't be completed. Her Muggle heritage will insulate her slightly more. She will survive. Plenty of people live without connecting with their other half and they find their own form of happiness."

"You won't. You _know_ the bond has been triggered and even consummated, albeit, in a rather unconventional manner. You _will_ go mad, Severus. You've seen her magical soul. It will eventually kill you."

"I wasn't supposed to _live_. It won't be quick. I will have time to see to Draco first. And after I am gone, she will be free to love whom she will, even Weasley, if he survives long enough with his own sanity intact. I have kept her from being able to do that all these years and didn't even know it."

"Oh, my boy."

"Don't!" he said stabbing a finger at the portrait. "I don't want your pity. I don't want your friendship. I don't want anything from this world, except your silence. If you tell her the truth, you will destroy her life. I won't thank you for that." Snape turned and stalked away.

"You are deluding yourself if you think you can walk away from her! It won't let you!" Phineas called after him. Snape didn't answer, just threw a vengeful scowl back over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairs.

* * *

And there you have it... The answer to what has been wrong all along.


	14. A Little Slytherin

AN: Thanks to _all_ who have helped with this story.

* * *

Rose hopped off the train, dragging her trunk, and walked with her brother and her cousins toward the Thestral carriages. This would be Hugo's first time riding the carriages, and she watched his subdued pleasure with sadness.

Since her first year, it had been a tradition that her parents took them to London to let them ride the train to school. As a matter of fact, prior to her first year as a student at Hogwarts, they had never allowed her or her brother to ride the train. Her parents held the privilege back to make her transition from resident child to student even more special.

This year, she and Hugo had gone to London with her Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill. Her mother had taken them for their supplies and new clothing and seen to their packing, and then their father had come to pick them up and had dropped them at the Burrow that morning. Rose and Hugo had tried to put a good face on things, but the train ride had been one long interrogation by the cousins. Where's your Mom? What's up with your Dad? We've hardly seen him this summer.

Hugo had retreated into his books, leaving his older sister behind to try and make excuses for what was finally obvious to everyone, and not just her and Hugo. Their parents hated each other.

Rose let the swaying of the magical carriage lull her as her thoughts roamed to the many conversations she'd had with her brother over the summer.

"_Hey, Rose?" _he had asked one day while in Malta as they walked down the street, trailing behind their Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry. _"You think Mum and Dad were ever that nice to each other?" _As if on demand, Uncle Harry had picked a flower and stuck it in his wife's hair. Rose watched them for another ten yards before replying.

"_No. I don't think so, Hugo."_

Her brother and she had spent a lot of time talking quietly together about their parents after that.

"_Hugo? Do you know why Dad has his own bedroom? I'm not buying the mattress thing. They could charm a mattress to be half-firm for his back."_

"_I think it's because Dad did something bad last year at the school, and Mum's still angry."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Well, you remember that time we were playing Hide and Seek, and I won?"_

"_Yeah, you said you hid in a tree until Dad came and got you."_

"_I don't think it was Dad."_

Their parents had managed to give them a lot to talk about. They were unfailingly polite to each other and always pleasant when company was around, but that was the only time you saw them together. The time spent at their house in Garrigill seemed empty and depressing. Even though their mother really knackered herself out making sure they had a good time, more often than not, they flooed back to the Burrow to go play with cousins and try and escape the heaviness.

She smirked as the conversation in the carriage turned towards the news coverage of Headmistress Sinistra's latest scandal. It had been Hugo's idea to leak their overheard gossip about the woman to the newspapers, and they and their cousins had reveled in the negative publicity all summer long. Although their parents had cut the relevant articles out of the Daily Prophet before letting them see it, their Uncle George had been more than willing to hand over his copy. Rose sighed. What little fun was to be wrung out of this summer hadn't been enough to escape the feeling of gloom.

At least her mother had finished her paper. That was why she wasn't able to bring them to the station. She had some big meeting with the potions people to get her Mastery today. Her father had been really supportive and excited about that, but hadn't gone with her. He'd had to leave early to be at the school before the students.

As the carriages turned around a bend in the road, she looked up at the castle, her home ever since she had been born, and had the feeling that this year would be different from any other, but not in any good way.

* * *

Severus Snape stood at the sixth floor window that looked out onto the front lawn of the school and the gates. He had seen most of the staff arrive over the past week, including the Headmistress, whom he'd had to report to with his list of completed projects. Everyone was present and accounted for with the exception of one staff member: the Potions mistress. The welcoming feast would be getting underway soon, and she had yet to arrive. Snape's anxiety increased with every tick of the minute hand on the grandfather clock down the hall behind him.

Seven weeks. It had been almost two months since he had last seen her slam a door closed in his face. Since then, his entire being had centered on this day, this hour, this moment, when she was to return. As the minutes ticked by and still she didn't arrive, his gut clenched with the fear that perhaps she had resigned. Perhaps she was gone, and no one had thought to tell the lowly caretaker.

He had four more months before his release. Four more months of life without her. He wouldn't survive. Not with his sanity intact. He wouldn't be able to get to Draco. He wouldn't be able to try to heal him, nor unlock the vault in France that might ease the boy's life while his parents rotted in prison and his godfather drooled into his soup. He looked at the clock. Ten minutes until the first-years would be brought across the lake in boats. He wasn't even aware that his pale, long-fingered hands came up and touched the window, urging the front gates to open in the moonlight. He leaned forward until his face was pressed against the glass.

A slight movement drew his sharp eye and soon enough a figure was just visible in the shadows beyond the gate. The gate opened and Hermione stepped through, carrying a bag in each hand and a satchel on her back. Snape watched her progress as she hurried up the lane towards the doors. He didn't see her look up as if sensing she was being watched. He was already gone, moving swiftly down the stairs.

* * *

Hermione had appeared just outside of Hogwarts with a loud bang and had immediately started swearing up a storm as she'd grabbed onto a slim tree for support. She had cut things finer than she would have been comfortable with even before her magic went wonky again leaving her stuck in Cumbria unable to Apparate. Her magic had started to become more and more erratic - her body's usual response to pregnancy - and she really should have allowed herself more time to get to the castle. She had stayed after her viva to speak with Chatwurth and Slughorn, basking in the glow of not only their praise, but their easy acceptance of her as a peer until it was almost too late to make it back home to grab her things and get to the school. Being late to the feast would be the capper on a whirlwind day.

Once the nausea had passed, she'd checked to make sure her glamour hadn't failed. Being petite and curvy wasn't conducive to hiding a pregnancy, so she had resorted to magic.

She'd tapped her wand on the gates and shoved herself through as soon as they'd started to swing open, catching her satchel on the gate latch. She'd growled and twitched it off. Settling the satchel back on her shoulder, she'd gripped her two bags and set off up the path at the fastest scurry she could achieve.

Staring up at the castle, she'd been struck by an unexpected thought: She was glad to be back. Her summer had been hellish enough to make her adore this place, but the feeling of contentment seemed to be deeper than relief. She hadn't felt this sense of belonging since Minerva died. There was a feeling of completeness.

She had actually been dreading coming back for almost two months now. What little time she'd had left over, after throwing herself into her paper and then the subsequent revision, had been spent agonizing over either finding a way to tell Ron they were expecting another son or figuring out how to deal with Snape once she saw him again. The only respite she'd had was the time spent with Rose and Hugo when she could successfully push it all from her mind. Unfortunately, they had spent most of their time with their cousins. In the end, she had gotten her Mastery, put off telling Ron for yet another week, and decided to hold the moral high ground and ignore Snape completely rather than hex his bollocks off as soon as she saw him.

She'd been completely unable to shut off her feelings for the man and had squirmed in embarrassment for most of the last seven weeks, remembering how she had thrown herself at his feet and been stomped on. She had to get her thoughts in order now that the new term had started. She had no intention of forsaking her admittedly tattered wedding vows. Now that she didn't need whatever peace of mind she could scrounge up to work on her Mastery, it was time to tell Ron and concentrate on the little life inside her. There was no room for these stubbornly confused feelings Snape evoked. She was determined to push the man out of her mind once and for all. He would be gone at Christmas. She could make it that long. If the man didn't go away soon, she feared she would lose her mind.

Hermione hurried as fast as she could up the path from the gate to the front entrance. She knew she was in trouble. Even if she dumped her bags in the hall and got to her seat on time, Sinistra would take her to task after the feast when her bags were found at the entrance. The house elves would be scrambling to get the feast in order, and it would be unkind to call one away just to see to her bags. She changed directions, angling toward the Staff Antechamber deciding to dump her bags in the shrubbery. Just as she changed her course, the front door flew open, and a tall, lanky figure emerged and hurried in her direction.

She stopped dead in her tracks, and stared at him. She could feel the ridiculously pleased smile sweep across her face, and she was nearly overcome by just how glad she was to see him.

"What the hell kept you? You're about to miss the feast, you foolish woman!" he snapped. "Move!"

She frowned at him, caught between her sudden happiness and her need to still be mad at him, but turned and hurried around the outside of the Great Hall as Snape came up alongside. He reached for one of her bags.

"Here, give those to me. I will ensure they make it up to your rooms," he said stiffly.

"Fine, that would be most helpful, Mr. Snape," she said, trying to establish distance. Her irrational reaction to seeing the bastard was surely a result of her stressful day and her relief that this bloody summer was finally over. Nothing more.

She reached out to hand him her bags, and he took them from the bottom, juggling them to get a handle after she had let go.

"Oh, could you take this too?" she asked, as she swung her satchel off her shoulder. He shoved one bag under his arm and carefully took the bag from her by the strap. "I do appreciate it," she said, in a conciliatory tone.

"Think nothing of it," he replied stiffly. "Go."

She started to turn away, but almost without her own volition, she turned back and patted his hand.

"Thank you, Severus," she said.

He recoiled from her as if she had stung him, and then he stood there dumbstruck, staring at her.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, angered by his action. "I assure you, I was only being grateful, nothing more. I do eventually learn, Snape."

He shook his head slowly, blinking in apparent confusion.

"No," he said in a husky voice. "It was…nothing. My apologies. Go, you have just enough time to get to your seat."

She graced him with a curt nod and turned and raced down the side of the building, leaving the caretaker standing stock still behind her.

Her sudden joy at her return faded as she slipped into the building, said a quick hello to Violet in her frame, and stepped out into the noisy Great Hall. She walked along the head table until she found her seat.

"Cutting it a bit fine, eh?" Ron asked quietly beside her. "How did it go?"

She couldn't help the smile she gave him.

"I got it." she replied, just as quietly.

He smiled brightly at her and then closed his eyes in obvious relief before turning his attention to the Headmistress who was signaling to let the firsties in.

Hermione turned towards where Rose and Hugo sat looking up at her expectantly and gave them a big smile and a thumbs-up. The both smiled back at her and offered her mouthed congratulations.

She took a deep breath and relaxed.

It was almost possible to pretend her life was good. With only a slight squinting of the eyes, she could make her children's happiness for her success into simply that, and blur the nervous eggshell-walking they had done for the entire summer. If she tilted her head at the right angle, she could make it so that it seemed Ron's smile was because she was now H. Granger-Weasley, Potions Theorist, and not because he was one step closer to being free to run away. If she threw her eyes out of focus just a little as she looked out over the sea of faces arrayed before her, she could pretend that she was content because she belonged here, and not content because she was finally back under the same roof as that irritating, irrational, irrefutably attractive man, whose soul purpose in life seemed to be to drive her completely batty.

Whatever the hell made her react the way she had at seeing him, one thing was for sure: he felt it too. There was no other explanation for his perfectly-timed appearance just now other than the fact that he had been watching for her. Just what the hell she was supposed to make of that, she had no idea.

* * *

Snape wandered up to the Weasley's quarters without the slightest bit of awareness. His mind was completely consumed with three facts. One: she had touched him, and he was still alive. Two: she had touched him, and the bond had stayed quiescent, and three: she had touched him. He could make no sense of any of it. There was no way to break a Soul Bond except death, so there was no possibility that the bond was gone. Indeed, he had hardly been in control of his actions when he'd made a complete fool of himself running after her. So, it was safe to say the bond was still active. He had lived with the memory of the resolute dismissal on her face when she had closed that door for these long pain-filled weeks, and yet, as soon as she was back, she had smiled at him, and then she had reached out and touched him. His fear and reflexes had made him jump back, not the life debt. The only discomfort he felt in his chest was the pounding of his panicked heart, and his own magic battering away at the walls of its prison, trying to escape.

Her touch had been almost ludicrously pleasurable to him, but where was the electricity, the spark? Usually, it didn't fade until the bonding was completed. Could there be another explanation?

"Argus," he said absently to the portrait which swung open at his universal password. He stepped inside, refusing to let either his eyes or his memory wander, and placed her bags down on the sitting room table before hurrying out.

Obviously there was something about Soul Bonds that he didn't know. Some circumstance that changed the dynamic. He had an hour before the feast would come to a conclusion, so he changed his direction and headed for the library. Surely it would be easy enough to research everything he needed to know.

Despite everything people said or thought about him for most of his life, Severus Snape was actually a very honorable man. When the Headmistress had made such theater of telling him the things he could and could not do in the school he had actually done his best to abide by every word. He had broken his word once or twice, but only due to Weasley and the life debt, something he had no control over. To his thinking, Winky didn't count. He hardly had any control over the foolish elf. It was only now, a year and eight months after arriving that he was actually going to consciously break his agreement for his own gain and remove a book from the shelves. So, it was even more appalling for him after slipping into the library and ghosting over to the section he needed, to be zapped by a stinging hex. Obviously there were wards set up to inhibit his ability to access the proscribed texts. He stood there glaring at the shelf with one hand jammed under the other arm in an attempt to soothe his injured fingers. He stood not nine inches from the hide-bound copy of 'Le Livre de L'âme' which held the answers he desperately needed, and for all the good it did him, it might have been on the other side of the globe.

He turned with a frustrated growl and stormed out of the library and down to his own quarters. The only thing that kept him from falling into a rage was the knowledge that, whatever phenomenon _was_ blocking their bond, he could touch her. But for how long? Would it last? Was it a temporary condition? He needed answers, but first, he needed relief.

He stripped out of his clothes and fell onto the bed, taking himself in hand, and lost himself in fantasies about the many, many ways he could touch her. So engrossed was he in his need that he came loudly, breaking from his habitual silence by crying her name out to the shadows, like an appeal.

* * *

Ron watched proudly as Luna's twins took to the air with grace. Only two firsties, the Piltcher girl and the Comptinus boy had difficulty. Six weeks into the term and Gilbrand Comptinus had finally managed to get off the ground, but he wobbled so badly at three feet that Ron had charmed his broom to prevent any higher ascent. He turned to Mary Piltcher and patiently repeated his instructions. Muggleborn students tended to have the most difficulty in having faith in their own magic. Though a Pureblood, Gilbrand couldn't get his Ravenclaw brain to stop trying to figure out the Laws of Magical Physics involved and simply get on with the business of flying.

He blew his whistle and watched as all his students returned to earth.

"Okay, good job! Well done! I want a foot of parchment on right-of-way signals by the end of class next week. Off you go!"

He watched the students scatter back towards the castle and drifted along behind them. He pulled his grade-book out of his robes and started to make little marks next to each name with the small, Muggle pencil that Lavender had given him. Her idea had been a real winner. Ron had usually waited until he got back into the castle to think about the grades, and his quills were usually a mess from getting squashed in his pocket. Somewhere between the end of class and his office, something else always came up and the grading always got forgotten. By keeping her pencil in his pocket, he could start to mark the grades right away before he became distracted.

He was very pleased with himself. He couldn't wait to see the expression on Hermione's face when he showed her his completed grade book. She had been right when she'd said he wasn't very good at the paper-pushing aspect of his job. It always seemed to snowball on him, and then it became this object of frustration and shame that was better off shoved in a desk and forgotten. She would be really pleased that he was finally taking responsibility seriously. Of course, the irony wasn't lost on him. He was only figuring out how to do his job properly now that this was his last year. He finished marking and put his grade book back in his pocket and took a deep, satisfied breath. He felt good. Not carefree, which he wasn't sure would ever feel in this lifetime, but almost happy.

He had run into Lavender at the Three Broomsticks at the end of last term and had been struck by the feeling of coming home. They had started out just renewing an old friendship, but it eventually grew into more. Not the crazy, mad, thrill of Estelle, just a warm glow that made him feel like he was finally falling back into place. His happiness buffered his guilt. He felt awful that he was cheating on his wife, but it seemed to him that if he were to lose his few moments of peace with Lavender, then he would lose something important of himself. He had a dreadful feeling of foreboding whenever he contemplated it.

The tension between Hermione and himself had grown over the summer to boiling point. But the return of school brought with it a peace he was loath to look at too closely and question. Hermione also seemed calmer since school had started. They were more than cordial towards each other, even in private. She had admitted to jinxing his mattress, and he had found himself tickled at how long he had gone dismissing her as a cause of his discomfort. They had fallen into a quiet routine of roommates. Mostly he only saw her as she bustled in to their rooms on her way to hole herself up in her bedroom for the night. It was only in the dark of the night, when he was about to fall asleep, that he realized he was going to lose his wife and felt a cold hand twist in his gut. He'd taken to sleeping on his side so the tears would stop running into his ears.

He heard the flapping of wings and looked up to see an owl flying towards him as he reached the steps of the school. He stopped and twiddled the pencil in his hand while he waited for whatever message it was bringing. Detaching the letter, he gave the owl a friendly pat before sending it back on its way.

As he read the note, his smile froze. His freckles stood out as all the blood drained from his face. He crumpled up the letter and sat down hard on the steps, snapping the pencil in his white-knuckled grip.

* * *

Snape was walking along the hallway, changing out the burnt-out charmed torches for new ones. His mind, as ever, was on Granger. He'd seen precious little of her in the two months since school had started and always from a distance, although when she saw him, she usually smiled or at least nodded. The occasional polite nod kept him from thinking she was avoiding him on purpose, and the few comments Albus or Minerva's portraits had made led him to believe they hadn't seen much of her either. She certainly seemed to have given up her late nights in her office or her lab, although he still checked them every evening. Just seeing her occasionally and being in close proximity was enough to keep the pull of the bond content, if not satisfied. He would accept that. He only had two more months to go before he had to worry about anything else. He resolutely ignored the fact that he missed her. He needed to get used to that.

He'd had to hear through the school gossip channels, the portraits, that she had earned her Potions Mastery. He was immensely proud of her. Something he had never done. The politics involved were beyond his reach when he was a young instructor, and he was tainted goods shortly after that. His alter ego, the acclaimed, reclusive Potions Theorist, Simon Shilling, was a complete fabrication. It really didn't say much for the community that they never bothered to check his vitae once he had submitted his first potion for approval. Had he sent it as Severus Snape, it probably would have been binned immediately. He pushed his cart along before him, keeping his head down between sconces to avoid interacting with the occasional student not out enjoying the last of the warm days before Autumn set in.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape."

It wasn't until he heard his name that he realized he was the one being addressed. He turned his head sharply and saw Hermione's boy walking by with a letter clutched in his hand. He looked at the boy as if he had grown two heads and then scanned the hall for others, before turning back to the boy.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley," he returned finally with a scowl and a slight nod of his head.

The boy smiled, seemingly satisfied to get a response, and kept going. Snape, waiting for the joke, watched him until he disappeared from sight, heading towards the owlery. It never came. He shook his head slightly and pushed his cart to the next sconce.

It wasn't that long before he'd worked his way to the base of the West Tower. The odious seventh-year, Jared Poppleton and his thug of a partner, Standish Graves, came bursting out of the tower, guffawing and slapping each other for some mean joke, well-played. Snape kept to the shadows until they were out of sight before moving on to change the next torch. Something made him stop and look back toward the steps leading to the owlery. An uneasy feeling crept over him, and he pushed his cart over to a cupboard and shoved it in before heading up the tower stairs silently. The top of the tower was empty of students. Only agitated owls could be seen. He scanned the room carefully until he saw a letter lying on the floor, almost hidden by droppings and feathers. He went over and picked it up. Looking at the address, he read: _Grandma Granger, St Martin's Terrace, Muswell Hill, London._ Looking around again, he could see no other sign of struggle or evidence that the boy was still here. Only the sinking feeling in his gut and the fact that Hugo had never come back down told him the boy was in trouble. He looked up. The rafters were full of irritated owls, but there was no sign of the second-year boy. He made a slow circuit of the room, looking out each window until he found him. Leaning his head out the north-face window, Snape saw Hugo stuck to the side of the building. Obviously only his torso was stuck, because his legs and arms twitched like an over-turned beetle. His arms were splayed out, trying to find a grip in the stones, and his feet dangling a foot above the slight ledge. Hugo didn't make a sound. Tears flowed freely down his face, and he had wet himself, but he was so full of terror that he was as silent as the grave.

Snape stepped up onto the window, and grabbing onto an old, unused sconce, he gave it a sharp tug before he put his entire weight on it and swung out and curled his other arm around the boy's thighs.

Hugo finally let out a blood-curdling scream as he was grabbed.

"Easy, child. I've got you."

The boy's eyes finally focused on his rescuer.

"It's you! I hoped you would save me again! Get me down! Get me down!"

"Calm down," Snape snapped. "I haven't got any magic, so I can't end the Sticking Charm. Do you have your wand?"

"Wand?"

"Your wand, boy! Do you have it? Pay attention when I ask you a question!"

Hugo responded to the tone in spite of himself.

"Yes, sir."

"Fine, grab it, and then put your arms around my neck."

Hugo seemed to struggle to let go of his death grip on the cracks in the stones, probably convinced it was the only thing holding him up. Reaching his left hand into his right sleeve, he slid his wand out and clutched it tightly before flinging his arms around the neck of the caretaker.

"When I say, I want you to end the charm. Can you do that?"

"How? I don't know how!" the boy cried.

"Don't be a dunderhead. Use _Finite Incantatem_. Can we _try_ to be quick about it? I have chores."

Snape made sure he was properly anchored and settled his grip on the boy. He took a few breaths, expecting to be instantly strangled when the boy's weight dropped.

"Now, if you would Mr. Weasley."

The boy gasped out the spell and then screamed as he dropped off the outside wall and fell an entire two inches into Snape's grip.

"Close your eyes, Hugo," he said gently before shoving off of the ledge with one foot and pulling himself back onto the windowsill and inside.

Once they had reached the safety of the owlery floor, Snape couldn't hold the boy's weight anymore and clawed at Hugo's arms to try and get some air. The boy couldn't seem to let go, and Snape couldn't use his teacher's voice while being strangled.

He finally resorted to thumping him lightly on the head, and the shock of his actions seemed to clear the boy's mind. He let go and slowly slid down until his feet were on the floor, but he kept his face burrowed into Snape's chest and his arms locked again around his ribs. Snape stood there with his arms held slightly out from his sides.

"Hugo, you must pull yourself together," he said to the sniveling boy. "You can't let them see they got to you, young man. You must collect yourself immediately, and then you need to let them see that you are not affected by their poor taste in humor."

"But I _am_ affected. I'm bloody well horribly affected!"

"Language, Mr. Weasley," Snape replied. "You know that, and I know that, but you mustn't let _them_ know that. A Slytherin never shows weakness unless it's for the purpose of misdirection."

"But I'm not a Slytherin! I'm not much of a damned Gryffindor either."

"Again, language. Am I mistaken in believing the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin? I thought I had a good eye for the embarrassed ones. Perhaps I was wrong."

"No, sir, you're not wrong. It couldn't decide between Slytherin or Gryffindor until I begged. My father would have killed me. How did you know?"

"I was the Head of Slytherin, boy. I could always spot the ones that naturally belonged to my House. However, the times were a bit different, and more than one student begged not to be placed there. Begging works rather well on that annoying hat. As for you not being much of a Gryffindor, you might want to speak about that with Mr. Longbottom. He was convinced he was in the wrong house, probably right up until the moment he lopped the head off an enormous, evil serpent." Snape sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hands before planting them on his hips.

"Do you think we could continue this discussion when you are not clinging to me like a lamprey? Your urine soaking into my trousers is rather unpleasant."

Hugo was so embarrassed he sprang away, fumbling with his wand before casting a Scourgify on the caretaker and then himself.

"Thank you for saving me again, sir," the boy said. Snape narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"You said something to that effect before. However, I am choosing to ignore it. It's bad form to bring it up again."

He pulled the boy's letter out of his pocket.

"Mail this, and then we will go see the Headmistress. The Misters Poppleton and Graves have a date with drudgery. I doubt seriously if they will get expelled since Mr. Poppleton's aunt works for the Daily Prophet, and the Headmistress seems to be having trouble with the press these days."

"I can't report them. Everyone will call me a rat."

"You aren't reporting them, I am. You're being dragged along against your will. Now mail your letter."

Hugo looked at him with uncomfortably familiar amber eyes, before turning towards the owls and choosing one. Snape huffed a breath and crossed his arms.

After sending the owl on its way, the boy turned back towards the caretaker.

"May I ask you a question, Mr. Snape?"

"Would it stop you if I said no?"

"Most likely not, but if that were the case I doubt I would receive an answer."

Snape rolled his eyes and turned towards the doorway.

"Ask your question, Mr. Weasley."

"Do I owe you a life debt now?"

Snape stopped dead in his tracks. He twisted his head around and looked at the boy in surprise.

"No, child. Children cannot owe a life debt. It is the job of every adult to save their lives when needed."

"Pardon my rudeness, sir, but you were in school when you fell into your first life debt, weren't you?"

"I see my personal life has been bandied around as dinner-time chatter. How charming," he said with disgust. "I had reached my majority before that incident, boy. Although still a student, I was no longer a child. If you are done with your inquisition?"

Hugo walked over to him and then past, as he headed towards the door.

"Just one more, sir. If you save the life of someone else's child, would that cancel the debt you owed that person?"

Snape reached out a hand and spun the boy around by his shoulder.

"Hugo, your life wasn't in danger until I told you to cancel the charm. Had another adult found you, it wouldn't have been but a moment's work to pluck you off the wall and float you in the window. I chose not to have you hang there until I found someone else. I didn't save your life. If anything, I risked it. No, my actions did not cancel out anything. You must put all that out of your mind. These things are bigger than you, and you will only get hurt. Do you understand? I'm saying this for your own benefit."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

Snape gave him a hard stare and then nodded and turned toward the door. He stepped out onto the landing and started down the stairs but there was no sound of footsteps behind him, he turned back and saw Hugo frozen in fright before the large open window on the stairs.

Snape sighed and went back for him.

"Look at the inside wall, for Merlin's sake," he said, taking a firm grip on the back of the boy's robes. He walked him down the stairs at a brisk pace, and when they came out into the hallway, in front of a couple of sixth-years, Snape lifted his arm until the boy was almost dangling from his fist.

"Headmistress' office now, boy."

They continued on through the castle that way, attracting stares and whispers. As they headed down the empty hallway towards the Headmistress' office, Hugo, tired of dangling, finally spoke up.

"Sir? Do you mind? No one can see us now."

"I don't mind at all," the caretaker replied, without loosening his grip.

When they reached the gargoyle, Snape spun him around and bent down, until they were eye-to-eye.

"I will take my lunch tomorrow in the kitchens at noon. If you wish to learn how to control your fear, you would do well to be there at half-past. I will not repeat the offer."

That said, he spat the password, and when the statue jumped to the side, he dragged the boy up the stairs.

* * *

Snape had just finished brushing his teeth when there was a knock on his door. He grabbed Potter's cloak and threw it on over his nightshirt, before slipping his feet into his canvas shoes and answering it. On the other side of the door stood one of Hugo's parents, obviously emotional over the boy's ordeal, and grateful for Snape's part in it. He stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him and twitching his cloak closed.

"Weasley," he acknowledged, struggling, just as the other man obviously was, with the sudden increase of antipathy. _Rival_, _interloper_, the bond sang in his blood. At least Snape understood the dynamic between them now, the poor sod in front of him didn't.

Ron just looked at him, red-faced. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally speaking.

"Look, Snape," he said. "I just want you to know, I'm very grateful for what you've done for my son. Hugo's a really sensitive boy, and I don't know what you said to him, he won't tell me, but he really took your words to heart. What happened to him today could have ruined what little self-confidence he has, and I'm glad you didn't run and alert the rest of the school, because the shame would have crushed him."

"Whose shame, Weasley?" Snape asked. "Yours or his? I got the distinct impression that the boy isn't sure. Your gratitude is unnecessary. Anyone would have done the same. However, if it will ease your _conscience_, I will accept it."

Ron's face turned a violent shade of red, but he struggled to control it.

"Fine then," he said.

"Indeed," Snape replied.

Ron turned and stomped down the hallway, not seeing the shadow that recoiled at his passing. Snape stood in the hallway, eyes pinned to the shadow until Hermione finally stepped out into the wan light of the torch.

She looked at him from twenty paces away, and her voice came to him softly from across the distance.

"Thank you, Severus."

He stared at her, willing her to come to him, but she turned and walked away.

"You're most welcome, Hermione," he answered, pitching his voice just enough to carry.

She turned back, but only to nod, before disappearing back into the shadows.

*

*

* * *

Ta da! December is rapidly closing in! It's almost over!

Almost.

*

Feed my addictions. Review or send me Soy Chai Lattes.

AN 2.0: One does NOT send me funneh cabin boy stories and then have their PM's turned off. Just not the done thing donchaknownow. Makes my head go 'splodey.


	15. A Time to Tell

**AN:** All praise and lurv to my girls. **Not mine. No money**. The captain has turned on the seatbelt signs. Please do not move about the cabin until the seatbelt signs are turned off. In case of emergency, remember your seat cushions are floatation devices... You have been warned.

* * *

Rose watched as the latest victim of Jared Poppelton and his petty thugs slipped away unnoticed by anyone else. It was a trick Hugo had always had. As if he could suddenly turn himself invisible. They had all been busy trying to plot revenge on Poppleton and Graves. The seventh-year Gryffindors had been a constant irritation to their tribe, as they called themselves, from the moment Teddy Lupin had first arrived at Hogwarts. The various Weasleys, Potters, Longbottoms, and the newest members of the tribe: the Scamander twins, were all holding a conference of war in the Room of Requirement, under the less violent-prone supervision of Teddy. Hugo had faded back and turned towards the door, completely unnoticed by everyone but his sister. She tried to mimic his trick, only to get a questioning glance from Teddy. She nodded towards the Head Boy, lifting her hand to signal she would be back if she could, and caught up to Hugo out in the hallway.

"Where are you going?" she asked, concerned.

"I have something I need to do," Hugo replied.

"But we need you!" she snapped. "You can't just walk out in the middle of this! It's for you!"

"No, it's for all of us. There's no more I can add. You know confrontation isn't my thing. Besides, you're the best duelist here. Just let me know what I need to do when I get back. I have an appointment."

His sister planted her hands on her hips and stared at him with her piercing blue eyes. "An appointment with whom?"

Hugo fidgeted. He was pants at keeping secrets from his sister. Thank Merlin she was great at keeping secrets.

"With Mr. Snape," he finally answered.

Her eyes got big and round. "Why?"

"I think he wants to talk about what happened yesterday."

"Really? What for?"

"Rose, can't it be private?" he pleaded.

His sister was immediately contrite.

"Yeah, okay. Where are you meeting him?"

"Down in the kitchens. I'm going to be late now if I don't hurry."

"Right, then. Let's go." She pushed his shoulder to turn him in the right direction.

"_Rose_," he whined.

"I'm not going to your meeting, but I'm not letting you run through these halls alone until those prats graduate or get expelled, either. Move it. You said you were late. I'll take you down there and then visit with Mum in her office until you're done."

* * *

Hugo waited until his sister was almost gone before reaching out and tickling the pear in the painting. He stepped through into the kitchen and found Mr. Snape sitting at a table, fastidiously dabbing at his mouth with his napkin before pushing his plate away. Hugo hesitated in the doorway.

"Mr. Weasley, punctuality is always pleasant. Do come in."

Hugo walked over towards the table, trying to control his nervousness.

"Sir, you said something yesterday about getting rid of my fear?"

"I said no such thing," said the man as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Hugo's face fell. "I asked if you wished to control your fear. No one would want to get rid of fear. What would to keep you from trying to kiss the squid if that were the case?"

He pushed his chair back from the table and studied the boy.

"Do you have your wand?"

"Yes, sir."

The man held out a long-fingered hand. "Give it to me."

Hugo pulled his wand out and handed it to the caretaker and then startled when the man flung it across the huge kitchen. It slipped behind a counter and disappeared.

"What do you feel right now?" the caretaker asked.

"Nervous, sir. And a little frightened."

"Because of my actions? Or because you are unarmed?"

"Both?"

"Call your wand, boy."

Hugo lifted a hand. "_Accio_ wand!" He caught it deftly when it flew towards him and then looked at the man, waiting for an explanation or another question.

"And how do you feel now?"

"Nervous and confused, sir."

"And the fear?"

"Not as great, since you let me have my wand back."

Mr. Snape sat back in his chair. "So the knowledge that you have a tool at your disposal makes the fear manageable?"

Hugo thought about it. "Yes, that pretty much explains the feeling."

"Good. I am going to give you another tool. Obviously, I cannot show it to you. You will have to listen well and pay strict attention. I won't be pleased if I find I am wasting my time."

"Yes, sir. Do I need to take notes?"

Mr. Snape gave him a peculiar look at that, but let it pass.

"No. Give me your wand again."

Hugo handed his wand over again and waited for the man to throw it.

"Winky," he called instead.

"Sir is wanting Winky?" said the elf that popped up at his side.

"Put this in Mr. Weasley's room under his pillow, if you please."

He handed the wand to the elf, and as soon as he let go, the wand disappeared with a pop. If the elf had left and come back, it had happened too fast for Hugo's eyes.

"Will sir be wanting anything else?"

"Tea, please, and some biscuits for the boy. Chocolate."

Hugo didn't know what to make of that exchange as he struggled with his sense of vulnerability. When Mr. Snape turned and gave him an appraising stare, it only made matters worse. The man stared at him as if he could read all his secrets, and as the silence dragged out, Hugo's utter faith in the caretaker started to falter. When his eyes settled on the faded Death Eater tattoo, partially covered by the wide iron band that blocked off his magic, it occurred to him that he was just a child, now alone and wandless, in the presence of a man who had already killed at least once. He bit his lip.

"Are you frightened now, boy?" the man asked leaning forward and setting his elbows on his knees.

"Yes."

"Good."

Mr. Snape folded his hands together and brought them up until both his index fingers touched his mouth. He tapped them against his lips several times, not shifting his gaze, letting the tension build.

"I want you to feel your fear, Hugo. I want you to stretch your mind out and find the size and shape of it."

Hugo closed his eyes and concentrated on his fear. It seemed amorphous and insubstantial. He couldn't seem to get a handle on size or shape at all. He opened his eyes again and looked at the caretaker.

"Nothing?" the man asked.

"Not really sir."

"Then this is a fear you can handle easily, albeit with a certain amount of discomfort. Good, you've got Longbottom beat at any rate. Now we try for a little more. I want you to think about what happened yesterday. Go on, close your eyes and think about exactly what it was like to dangle so far above the ground with only a feeble sticking charm between you and sudden…painful…death. Think of the disappointment your father would feel, the grief of your mother and sister…"

At the man's words, Hugo felt his fear start to build. His armpits prickled, and his hair seemed to stand on end. His inner thighs seemed to go to jelly, and there wasn't enough air in the room. He broke out in a clammy sweat.

"Find the shape of it, boy."

He saw it. A huge, hulking monster of darkness and shame. It seemed bigger than a house, bigger than Hogwarts. It was certainly bigger than an under-sized second-year boy. The caretaker's words continued, and Hugo clung to them as he had clung to the man himself only yesterday.

"I'm going to give you a phrase. I want you to whisper it in your mind. Whisper it to your fear. Just the barest whisper, Hugo. Do you understand?"

"Yes…sir," the boy barely got the words past his numb lips.

"Open your eyes, Hugo. Good. Now, repeat after me, just a whisper, now: _Frika me vendos pa._ Whisper it to your fear. _Frika me vendos pa._"

Hugo kept his eyes locked on the caretaker's black gaze and whispered the words in his mind. He whispered it to the hideous thing that clawed at his brain. It came out as a squeak, even in his own head. A sudden swooping sensation startled him as he felt himself lift off the ground. He whispered it over and over.

"Keep the feeling of that whisper, Hugo."

Hugo continued the whisper in his head, chanting it quietly, over and over, as he hovered six inches off the floor.

"Push your fear towards that counter, boy."

Hugo did. In his mind he shoved at the beast, and his body slid over towards the counter. He was flying. Without a broom. He suddenly realized the gift that the caretaker was giving him, and his joy burst forth and smothered the fear. He settled slowly to the ground, ten paces away from where he started. He turned to look at Mr. Snape, and the man smirked at him and sat back in his chair before pouring the tea into two cups and shoving the plate of biscuits towards him.

"Eat one, Mr. Weasley. Fear can stick to you for hours afterwards. Chocolate helps."

"But I'm not afraid now!" Hugo blurted, only to receive a raised eyebrow in return. "Sir," he added belatedly.

Mr. Snape kicked a chair out from the table.

"Sit."

Hugo almost skipped over to the table and flopped into the chair, grabbing a biscuit and cramming in into his mouth.

"Now. It should go without saying that you need a bit more practice. However, you need to be discreet. I won't ask you to lie, nor would I demand secrecy from a child. However, this is not a common spell by any means, and although it is _not_ Dark Magic, the fact is, you are only the third person to know it in the last four hundred years. The other was Voldemort." Hugo swallowed hard at that. "He's the one that taught me. Therefore, I wouldn't advertise your knowledge, are we clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Mr. Snape sipped at his tea before he spoke again.

"Your fear is natural. I don't doubt, given your mother's early disastrous experiences on a broom, that you probably have a physical issue with your ears that results in profound vertigo. That can be overcome simply by constant practice and exposure until your brain learns to interpret the signal from your inner ear better. However, the psychological element of your fear, the phobia, if you will, is because of your lack of control of a situation. Brooms appear to be flimsy things. Tree branches can snap and break. A gust of wind could knock you from a wall. Or there is even a less common, but equally strong, issue of exactly what the fear is. Are you afraid you will fall? Or are you afraid you will…jump?

"That's immaterial, and something you might want to think about on your own time. Learn this spell, and you need not fear such a situation again. The branch breaks, you use your fear to fly to safety. The broom slides out of your hands, and you can go and fetch it and shove it in the fireplace where they all belong. For now, we need to go over the mechanics."

"Yes, sir," said Hugo.

"First off, as your fear either dissipates or is slowly released, you will float to the ground. Try to be close to the ground when that happens or it will take forever to get down. _Don't_ suddenly shut the spell off. You would find the ground faster than you would want, trust me.

"Secondly, what do you suppose is the difference between whispering and shouting the phrase in your mind?"

Hugo thought about it. He thought about how slowly he had lifted off the ground and how fluidly he had moved through the air.

"Height? Velocity?"

"Exactly," the man replied. He sounded satisfied with the answer, but his face wasn't exactly radiating pleasure. "To move faster, to fly higher, one needs to say the phrase louder in one's head. Direction is controlled by which way you push your fear. Remember that, when you are practicing, it will be hard for me to explain how you managed to give yourself a concussion when you smash your head on the kitchen ceiling tomorrow after dinner."

"Tomorrow, sir?"

Mr. Snape just scowled at him in annoyance.

"I assumed you would want some supervision as you develop your skills. No? Fine, then. Go jump off the roof if you think you've mastered it. I have things I need to do." He got up out of his chair. "Winky! There you are, return Mr. Weasley's wand, if you will."

Hugo stood up, understanding that he was dismissed.

"I _would_ like some more supervision, sir. If you wouldn't mind too terribly," he said, taking his wand from the elf with a whispered thanks. "I am very grateful for what you've done for me."

"Fine, then. As I said, return here after dinner tomorrow night."

Hugo gave the man, his new mentor, a slight bow before walking towards the exit. A thought occurred to him and he turned back.

"Sir? What was Voldemort afraid of?"

Mr. Snape favored him with an expression that _almost_ could be considered a smile.

"Death, cockroaches, and your Uncle Harry. Now go away."

* * *

When he showed up in the doorway of their mother's office, Rose watched her brother's face for signs of distress. She was relieved and intrigued by the happy excitement that seemed to vibrate out of him. Their mother picked up on it as well and asked him a few playful, but pointed questions. Their mum had been especially upset by what had happened to Hugo yesterday, and for once, their parents were in complete agreement with their outrage that Jared and Standish hadn't been expelled. Mum had even flooed Uncle Harry this morning to see about pressing charges, but neither of the boys would reach their majority until the spring.

Their mum put away her grading and headed to the Great Hall with them to get some lunch. Rose was impatient to find out what had happened to make Hugo so happy, but could hardly think of a way to dissuade her without looking suspicious. The three of them ambled along, chattering on pleasantly about nothing until they reached the Gryffindor table. Their mother stopped in her tracks and stared down her small nose at Jared and Standish and a few of their other friends until one-by-one, they left the table. Rose was impressed. She hadn't said a word, but had cleared out the nest of prats completely. Rose wondered where she had learned that trick.

It wasn't until long after lunch that the two siblings had been able to find a moment to be alone. Sitting in a far corner of the common room, she finally leaned over and got her brother's attention.

"So spill. I'm tired of waiting," she said.

"What do you want to know?" he replied.

"I won't ask how it went. I can see you're really stoked about the meeting, and I want to know why. What did you two do?"

"Well, we talked about fear, and how to use it as a tool."

"That's great! So what's he like? No one but Mom and Uncle Harry's ever said two words to him."

"Well, he doesn't smile. He just hints at it. And he always seems like he's just on the verge of being completely fed up with you. But I think he's really cool."

"Really? You like him?"

"Oh yeah. I think he's my new hero."

"Seriously? That's kind of weird, Hugo."

"Seriously. We've always been kind of weird, Rose. And besides, he knows some really amazing stuff."

"Like what?"

"Well, did you know Voldemort was afraid of bugs?"

* * *

Hermione entered the sitting room, nodded to Ron who was sitting on the couch reading a Quidditch magazine, and headed into her room to dump her things. She unbuttoned her robes and rubbed her sore stomach. She'd had to dash to the loo and vomited up the too rich dinner that had smelled divine but sat like a lump of grease. She felt like she'd pulled muscles in her abdomen from the heaving. All in all, this was a relatively easy pregnancy. She had been able to hide it through charms so far. Although still unable to use her faulty magic at will, Hermione had waited until it worked and cast several layers of charms to her robes themselves. That way, if the magic ever sputtered out again on a morning she was slow getting started, she wouldn't be stuck in her rooms claiming illness. Her biggest worry had been the crowded halls. Although her charms masked the visible signs of her pregnancy, they were no proof against getting bumped in a crowded hallway between classes. Things had gone smoothly up until yesterday. Yesterday when her son had been tortured by bullies, and she couldn't allow herself to do more than pat him on the back and run her fingers through his hair.

It was time. Time to come clean and let Ron know that she was pregnant. The camaraderie they had shared in defense of their son only brought home how important family was, and Hermione had had enough of being burdened with secrets. Wherever Ron had been off to yesterday, when she had sent out her _Patronus_ after being called to Sinistra's office, Ron had come back within twenty minutes. He'd been livid, and they'd been united as they both took Sinistra to task. However futile their actions were, standing together with the father of her children in the best interests of their child had felt good. Her clouded judgement over these past months had evaporated, leaving her deeply ashamed of herself.

She grabbed up her knitting and came back out and sat in the chair with a sigh and put her feet up on the ottoman.

"Hey, Mi. You sound beat," Ron said as he tossed down the magazine.

"I am. Yesterday's fiasco left me with even more grading today. How about you? How was your day?"

"Well, it was quiet. I kind of enjoyed that after all the excitement."

She looked down at the mess she had made of her yarn and tried to smooth out the tangles. _You can do this, woman. He's being more than reasonable. He's actually being nice. Get a grip on yourself. Remember: No blame!_

"Um, can we talk? There's, well, I've been thinking a lot about things since yesterday with Hugo, and well, Mione, there's something I need to tell you."

She blinked several times at him, confused to hear her own rehearsed words come out of the wrong mouth.

"Ron?"

"Look, there's no good way to say this," he said. Her hair stared to crawl around on her scalp. "I've done something stupid, Mi. I don't know what came over me last spring. It was like some sort of madness. And now everything is such a mess with you and Estelle and Lavender, I just can't handle all the secrets."

Hermione made a gurgling sound in her throat but Ron was so busy scrubbing his hands through his hair that he didn't notice.

"Lavender?"

Ron looked up and that despised, guilty look raced across his features.

"Yeah, I thought you knew. She was with me when you came home that night. I thought--I thought you saw us, er, you know."

"I only saw your flapping bollocks and a blonde," she answered in a hoarse whisper.

"Look, last spring I was seeing this other girl, an Italian girl, named Estelle. It was crazy, and I broke it off. She was mental. But I can't say I was any better. Well, when you and I came to our…understanding, I realized I didn't want some young, feather-brained Quidditch groupie. I want the same thing I've always wanted between us. I wanted a stable gal who understands me. I accept that it's over between us, but I'm still here with you for the kids. We have an agreement, right? Next summer, we'll both be free, and we'll both still be there for the kids, right? But then I kind of ran back into Lavender and well, one thing led to another, and she understands our situation. She's willing to wait." He sucked in a huge breath before blowing it back out again. "You see, the thing is…Estelle's pregnant."

Hermione gripped the arm of the chair and tried to clear her vision which had narrowed down to two pinpoints of light with sparkles floating on the periphery. She heard a soft moan and realized it came from her.

"I'm sorry, Mi. Merlin knows, I am so very sorry." He burst into tears. "After standing together for Hugo, I just couldn't lie anymore. I've let everyone down."

"Ronald…" she gasped.

"I know what you're thinking, Mi, and I've got it covered. I made an endorsement deal, one you didn't know about, and the money's pretty good. I've set it up so that it will take care of Estelle and the baby. The crazy bitch, it's all she wanted. She never cared for me. Hell, she didn't even know who I was. She just wanted to get pregnant by some jock so she could be set for life, and I was too much of an idiot to see I was walking right into it. The thing is, Mi, the baby's mine. I made her take a test. I can't reject a child that's mine. I can keep this out of the papers. Trust me, that won't be a problem. It won't hurt your career at all! No one will ever have to know, but Mi, I can't ignore my own child."

He stood up and came over to her, but she jumped up and backed away.

"Mione, please. Don't be like this!" he cried.

"I'm not! I'm not, Ron! Give me a minute. I just need a minute to think. I can deal with this. I just wasn't expecting it. I'm sure this will all make sense. Just let me get a handle on it. You know what? I think I need a minute. We'll get through this, sure. Just--Oh, Gods! Lavender?--I'm going to be sick. And you have money for mistresses already? Alright, hold on, no blame, yes, no blame. We can do this. It will work out. No. I don't think I can do this. I'm sorry, Ron. Maybe I can, but just not this moment. No. I don't think I can. Not right now. We'll talk more. There's a _lot_ more we need to talk about, okay? Okay, I need to be alone now. I'm--Oh!"

She turned and fled out of their quarters and ran blindly down the hall. _'Don't blame! He doesn't know!_' She wasn't aware which way she was headed or how she got to where she was. She was only aware of needing comfort. She needed something to stop the pain in her chest. _'Too many truths, too much!'_ she screamed in her own mind. It wasn't until she felt a pair of strong arms clamp around her and pull her in tight to a hard, warm chest with a wildly beating heart that she felt herself calm down even slightly. She sank into the embrace feeling safe and complete and tucked herself into his side. His arms loosened, and he pulled her back slightly before one hand gently touched her belly. She heard a quiet, anguished cry that was quickly swallowed before his arms closed around her shoulders, and he started her moving again.

She let herself be pulled along and trusted blindly in where he was taking her. She paid no attention to direction or distance, only to the sound of the wild heart that seemed to beat in time with her own. She heard the sound of a door being opened and then closed again, and she knew she was safe. Strong arms stroked her back, and a deep voice murmured in her ear. She didn't know what he said, she didn't care. She just soaked up the sensation of being _home_, of being _whole_, of everything being _right_, for the first time ever. It felt like, in the midst of all the madness, she had found sanctuary, and she clung to it to keep from drowning. She shuddered when she felt his hand slide over her belly again.

She lifted her head and opened her eyes and looked deeply into fathomless black ones, full of fear and worry and a deep, deep longing.

"Severus," she said, half prayer, half entreaty.

He pulled her in close and kissed her passionately.

The intense pleasure felt like an explosion in her brain, and she heard a strangled moan, almost like a whine and was surprised it hadn't been her. She opened her mouth as if to take more of his need into herself, and his tongue swept in. His breathing became labored as he kissed her as if he would die if he stopped. One arm was braced around her back, and his other hand held the nape of her neck with his long fingers spread up into her hair, holding her head as if fearful she would slip away.

Time stopped having any meaning. Their kiss became their entire universe. Their lips made it only as far across cheeks or down a chin, as far as they could go without leaving the other's lips completely, before diving back together and reaffirming their connectedness. Even after she realized her jaw was starting to ache, she held on to him tightly and kissed her way to a wondrous place where none of the ills of the world could reach. Eventually, his grip slackened, and his kisses became gentler, softer. His lips finally ventured away from hers and traveled lightly up to her temple.

"What _happened_ to you tonight?" he begged to know.

"It's Ron. His women. He's with Lavender, and there was some other woman, last spring, she's pregnant--Gods, we're all pregnant --and he's going to buy her off because he doesn't want to hurt anyone, and everything is so confusing! He was so good with Hugo, and I thought it was time to tell him, but he thought the same thing, and so he did, but it was too much! And I don't know what to do! I don't know what it means! He said he was under some sort of madness last spring, and I believe him. Everything was so crazy. And now he's got her pregnant! And Lavender Brown! Gods, what's he going to do when he finds out there are two babies? He wants me to forgive him, but how will he ever forgive me when I've been keeping such secrets myself? I can say I want him to be happy, but then it seems I don't mean it. Or I do, but I didn't want to hear with who. And I get upset that he's cheating, so I turn around and start kissing you! I feel like I'm losing my mind! I've lied to him for _months_ now. That's just not me! And I was going to tell him, but I couldn't take it. I felt this pressure on me like he shouldn't know and I ran."

Severus had stiffened in her arms.

"No, Severus, don't. Please I beg you. Please, don't be angry. I can't deal with angry. Don't push me away again! _Gods_, this is what he felt!"

He squeezed her tightly. "Never. I'm not angry at you! Don't think that. I'm here. I'm finally here, my Hermione." He caressed her face with his nose, and she settled down from the pleasure it sent to her core. "I'm just trying to understand. How many women are pregnant? How many other women are there? What do you need from me? Do you want me to make him pay?"

Hermione's eyes widened at that last bit.

"What? No! No, I don't want you to hurt him! He's confused. We're both confused. Only two of us are pregnant." She let out a disbelieving laugh. "_Only_, what madness." She pushed away from him and stepped back. He dropped his arms, but stepped with her, maintaining their bodies' proximity as if connected by a string. She realized they were in a classroom and wondered what floor they were on. "I'm not thinking clearly at all."

"You've been hurt. That's understandable."

She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of her out-of-control thoughts, but the more clarity she achieved, the more pain she felt. She turned her head and looked up at him, seeking more of that indefinable completeness. He brought his arms around her and pulled her backwards, into his embrace. His hands ghosted down and across her belly, feeling what the charms hid.

"Hermione…?"

She closed her eyes, wondering if their next words would strip this feeling of safety out from under her.

"Yes?"

He brought his face down and nuzzled against the side of her head.

"When? I mean to say, how far along?" he asked while he caressed her rounded, taut belly with one hand as his other arm crossed under her breasts and held her firmly but gently. She felt him start to tremble slightly

"Over five months, now. It…happened the night of the Founder's Ball at the end of last term. Ron and I hadn't, well, been together in years, and I guess I drank too much and--"

"Shhh," he said, kissing her temple, her cheek, her hair. "You don't need to explain anymore."

"But I do! I want you to understand! I didn't plan this! Ron and I had an agreement of only one more school year, and then we would both be free! But now, now everything is so upside down!" She twisted around until she was facing him. Surprised to see tears on his face. Her heart broke, he finally held her in his arms only to find she was swollen with another man's child. Her _husband's_. Could things get anymore twisted? "Severus, that night, even with Ron trying so hard, I thought of you. You were the one I wanted. The one I still want. You hurt me, confuse me, and you irritate me; you drive me to distraction, and make me doubt my sanity sometimes, but I think I am in love with you. I'm sorry, I know it's wrong, and I know you don't want me to. You asked me not to, and I'm hurting you by being here, but I think I'm just weak, Severus. I need you." She closed her eyes. "Please don't push me away again."

He brought his hands up to her face and kissed her softly.

"My Hermione, my soul, it's done. I can never push you away again. I am yours. All that I am is yours to command. But there's things you must understand. There are things going on that you don't fully see. You need to know the truth." She stepped back away from him, shaking her head furiously.

"No! No more truths tonight! I can't take it! I can't!"

"Hermione--"

"No, Severus, not tonight. Not until I can deal with everything that's already happened," she said, imploring him to understand.

He stepped closer and placed both hands on her bump.

"This baby--" She startled when his words broke off and his face became pale. "This is--" One of his hands came up and clutched at his chest. "I--"

"Severus!" she screamed as he collapsed to his knees. His face had become a shocking shade of gray. "Stop! Whatever you're doing! Stop!"

"NO!" he shouted, furious and in pain. "THE--" He bent completely over and vomited on the floor at her feet. The hand on her belly slid down her body until it landed on the floor next to the other, propping up the gasping man.

"Severus?" She crouched on the floor in front of him, stroking his face. Her mind felt fogged, as if she was struggling through mud to understand what was happening. She bit back her own sudden nausea and pulled out her wand. It took three emotionally erratic, tries to _Evanesco_ the mess. "Are you alright?" She tried to pull his head up, but it was dead weight. She twisted around until she could see his face; it was almost corpselike. She flicked her wand several times, trying to get a diagnostic spell, but failed.

"Do…not…tell…him about the…baby, " he gasped out. "Danger…ous." He fell silent, and she watched as he started to shudder uncontrollably.

"Severus?" she called. He groaned and keeled over. "Severus!" she screamed. She shoved him over onto his back and saw how blue his lips were, although the color was rapidly coming back into his face. She checked his breathing. It was shallow, at best. She flicked her wand and was finally rewarded by a diagnostic spell. "Oh, sweet mother, Severus!" She leaned back and hollered. "Winky!"

The diminutive elf appeared immediately.

"How can Winky help Mistress?"

"Take us both to the infirmary! Right away!"

Hermione felt the squeezing disorientation of elfin Apparition and then landed on her knees on a bed in the infirmary with Severus draped across her thighs. She scrambled backward off the bed.

"Poppy!" she yelled. She checked his breathing, heartened by its improvement. She then tore at the neck of his shirt, when her wand failed her again. Using panic for leverage, she ripped open the buttons on his shirt and waistcoat and bared his chest. She checked his breathing again as the school nurse came running.

"What's going on?" the nurse asked.

"Heart attack!"

"How long ago?" the nurse said, flicking several spells and staring at the display of runes glowing above his body.

"Just now, minutes. I saw him collapse and called an elf to bring him here straight away."

"Well," huffed the nurse. "It's beating fine now. His arteries are clear and the veins are good. Heart shows a lot of scarring. Most of it's recent. Some of it is probably from Azkaban. I've been hearing some rumors about the wards there. Whatever happened, it didn't leave behind traumatic damage. Might be damaged tissue causing the arrhythmia. Whatever it is, he's out of danger now. A bit of rest, and he'll be back to his nasty self in a few days. I'll keep an eye on him."

"Poppy, the man's ill. How can you speak like that?" Hermione said, surprised that she could still be shocked. She couldn't control the tears that ran, unchecked down her face or the tremors that raced up and down her body.

"I said I'd watch over him and I will. Don't try to tell me what to think while I do it!"

"That's just wrong!"

The nurse turned on her.

"_He_ was wrong! Do you know how many students I had to put back together when he was Headmaster? They had been tortured! Children! Do you have any idea how many times I had to shove a child back out those doors and into the school, crying and begging? Only to see them again the next week? The next day?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"No. No, I don't Poppy. I was too busy trying to find a way to make sure the bastard responsible was going to stay dead. But you know who does? Do you know who can tell you each and every single act and atrocity committed by the Carrows? He can. Did you even read the transcripts of his trial? He practically served as his own prosecution. He listed every injury for every student harmed on his watch. He knew, Poppy. He knew and the knowledge ground him down until he was more than willing to die. It hurt him so deeply that he accepted his sentence and wouldn't cooperate with Harry whenever we tried to get him a new trial. Poppy, he spent fifteen years in Azkaban, because he felt he deserved it. I think he's done. He followed Albus' orders. He tried to protect those he could. He served his time. Can he not have even a little dignity?"

Madam Pomfrey gave her a penetrating stare that was hard for Hermione to interpret.

"I'll keep an eye on him, and maybe run some more tests to find the extent of his damage. For now, I am going to sedate him for two days to give his body a chance to recover. I will send a report to Aurora, letting her know he will be unable to work for a few days." She straightened her sleeves before looking back at the younger woman. "It's late. You should go find your bed."

Hermione watched the nurse walk over towards her office. She sighed and looked down at Severus. His color was better, and his breathing seemed more regular. She lifted a hand to flick at his fingernails to check his capillary reflux, but then held it because of the pleasure she got from doing so.

She felt herself at the end of her tether with everything that had gone on this evening. First with Ron and all that he had revealed, and then with Severus and everything they had revealed to each other with that kiss. To find such illicit happiness after such emotional turmoil only to have him collapse from a heart attack that at first, she had stupidly thought had been self-induced, went beyond all acceptable levels of tolerance. She lifted her other hand and placed her palm on his naked chest over his heart, surprised again at the incredible pleasure in this simple touch. She felt his heartbeat, seemingly strong now, under her fingertips. The sound of footsteps made her draw her hands back suddenly and twitch his shirt closed.

"There's no use staying, Hermione," Poppy said.

"I know," she answered. "I will be back tomorrow afternoon for the results of your tests. If he does have damaged muscle tissue, let me know."

"You're thinking of using Minerva's potion on him? It's not been approved yet."

"It will be. I'll ask his consent first. If it is the muscle tissue, and if he agrees, I have the potion already on hand. It would require at least two weeks of bed rest and supervision." She said this last while giving the nurse a meaningful glance.

"I'll make sure that it's allowable," Poppy said. "Now, go."

Hermione nodded, and with a last look at Severus, she left.

Outside the infirmary, the first painting she came across was positively crowded.

"Hermione! What happened?" cried Minerva.

"Severus had a heart attack. Poppy thinks he will be fine. How did you find out?"

"Poppy made a floo-call to Aurora," said Albus.

"Was he trying to tell you something when it happened?" asked Phineas, in a voice loud enough to drown out Violet and Willa's words of concern.

"Yes," she replied slowly.

"Did you understand the message, girl?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Abide by it then."

"What do you mean, Phineas?" asked Albus.

The Slytherin Headmaster shifted his gaze before answering. "It's just a suspicion," he said. "I don't want to speculate further at this time, but I feel it would be best to listen to his words."

Hermione got the message. Whatever was going on, Minerva and Albus didn't know.

"I'll do that, Phineas. In the meantime, it has been an awful evening and I have classes tomorrow. As I said, Poppy assures me he is fine now. I bid you all good night."

*

When she reentered their rooms, Ron was waiting up looking like a child awaiting punishment. He shot to his feet as soon as he saw her, but came no closer and didn't speak. She remembered Severus's last gasped words and decided any explanation she could try to make to Ron now would only make a catastrophe of an evening cataclysmic. She would wait until Severus explained why she should stay silent before she did anything to make matters even worse.

"Go to bed, Ron. We'll deal with this mess and any other messes as well, but not tonight. Not when we're so tired and confused. Go to bed."

"Mi, I really am sorry. I don't know how everything turned so bad, or even the why of it, but I never intended to hurt you. I don't know what the hell I did intend, but it was never to hurt you."

"I know, Ron. We've never been able to understand the why of it. I don't even understand why now, in the face of everything, it hurts me to see you so upset. We'll deal with this. As for Lavender, my pride was stung. Surely, you can understand that." He nodded, sadly. "This other girl? I don't know. That one will be hard to deal with. But we will deal with it. Just, let's not do so tonight. We need some time away from this before we come back and think clearly. Okay?"

"Okay? It's a bit more than okay, Mi. It's so much more than I deserve." He scrubbed his hands through his hair in relief.

"I'm not sure that's true," she said, suddenly aware. It was like she had just woken up. As if the events of the evening were so warped and dream-like that she only now realized she had kissed another man tonight. What the hell was wrong with her?

The strangeness of the entire evening crashed down on top of her, and she struggled to avoid breaking down until she had waved at him and made it to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

*

* * *

You are free to move about the cabin now.

Review buttons are located near all the exits, and thank you for flying Angst Airways.

*drops mic and bolts for the door*


	16. Full Disclosure

**AN:** Thanks to the gang for keeping me on my toes. And now, a little of what you all have been waiting for...

* * *

Hermione sipped at her hot chocolate before she had even made it over to the table where Ginny was pulling out chairs. Her over-stuffed, overlarge Muggle coat was too hot inside the coffee shop, but she wasn't ready to take it off yet.

"Alright, woman. What's up with all the secrecy? We're here. Spill," said Ginny.

"Alright, but first I want your promise. If you tell Harry, and I assume you will, you _must_ keep him from doing anything. Anything at all, Gin. Everything is on the line here."

"Alright, you want a Wizarding Oath?"

"No, your word is enough."

Ginny sipped her latte and made a contented sigh. "I love this stuff," she said sheepishly.

"And I miss it," Hermione said.

"Coffee? You gave it up? Why?" Ginny looked at her quizzically, and then her eyes focused on the coat and grew huge. "Hermione, are you--?"

"Yes," she replied. She surreptitiously canceled her glamour before she unzipped her coat and shrugged out of it. Ginny pushed the small café table out of the way and got a good look.

"Mi, I saw you a couple of weeks ago."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ginny, I've been wearing charms and glamours since before the summer ended."

"How far along are you?"

"Twenty-two weeks."

"I don't know what to say. I can't believe Ron didn't say anything. No wonder he seemed more relaxed and contented when I last saw him."

"No, I'm pretty sure that was because of Lavender Brown, not me. Ron doesn't know."

Ginny choked on her coffee, and Hermione gave her a moment to catch her breath and digest that.

"Oh, gods above, Hermione. What's been going on?"

Hermione grabbed at a napkin to try and stop her tears.

"Mi, lets get out of here. My house or your house? Harry's gone till late."

"Yours, please."

They bundled up into their coats again, and Ginny took her by the arm, and together they left the shop. As soon as they made it around the corner, Ginny held Hermione tight and apparated away.

They landed on the steps of Grimmauld Place, and Ginny cursed viciously as her latte flew out of her hand, continuing its momentum, before dashing to the ground.

"Shite! I really, really wanted that." She blasted it with her wand before turning and lowering the wards on the house. She pulled Hermione back into a hug and brought her into her home.

"Kreacher!"

The curtains on Mrs. Black's portrait flew open, but Ginny closed them again in one swift, fluid wand movement built from years of practice.

"Mistress?" the elderly elf asked when he popped up.

"Tea, please. In the sitting room, if you will."

"Right away, Mistress."

* * *

"Alright, let me recap and see if I have everything so far," she said. "Ronald had been sneaking out of the castle and running off with some Italian tart. Then he broke it off with her sometime around the Ball. You and he, did the deed the night of the ball--not that I'm surprised as he was really working hard to get on your good side that night--but you were too drunk or too swept up to remember a basic Contraception Charm."

"Look," Hermione huffed. "It was a weird night, and I hadn't had sex in three years. Back off that part, will you? It's not like I haven't been beating myself up enough."

"Fine, I'm sorry. It's just not like you. Anyway, you and Ron come to an understanding that it's over and decide to split after one more year at that damned school. I have this right so far? Okay. Then you find out you're pregnant. You go home to Cumbria and find my bastard brother bouncing up and down on Lavender Brown?"

"I didn't know it was her at the time," Hermione corrected.

"Well, it's understandable. She was naked, and you're a woman. Men rarely recognize her with her clothes _on_," Ginny shot back. "Okay, so I understand how mad you were, and I can see to a point why you kept it from him for the entire summer. You were trying for your Mastery and didn't need the drama. But Hermione, why haven't you told him by now?"

Hermione fidgeted with her wedding band.

"Every time I thought about bringing it up, I suddenly thought of half a dozen reasons why it wasn't a good idea that day, or the next day or…well, you get the picture. And then there was the fact that I was afraid to rock the boat. Ron and I had settled into a sort of routine. He hasn't been running away as much… just going off for a few hours here or there and coming back. And he's been calmer. I didn't want to ruin it. I wouldn't say we were getting along, but to tell you the truth, Gin, it's kind of obvious he's happy. Well, he _was_."

"Until he found out he had super-swimmers," Ginny tossed in.

"Yes, well. He's not quite aware of just how complete his stud status is yet, is he?"

"Hermione, can't you see how crazy this all sounds? It's not like Ron to go tearing off after other women. You're not the type of wife who withholds little things like, oh, let's just say, a _pregnancy_ from her husband for almost six _months_. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know! I don't understand myself! Just being here and telling you makes it seem like some sort of temporary insanity, but then I get back to the castle, and I start to make excuses again."

"Oh, Hermione." Ginny took out her wand and started to cast detection spells.

"If you are looking for a curse or a compulsion, don't bother. I checked Ron too. I couldn't find anything."

"Something _is _going on. I know your marriage hasn't been good, but I can't help but feel like there is something else, some factor we don't know about. I wish we could get Harry here. He has all those Auror spells to detect Dark magic."

"It's not Dark magic either. It's not anything. I just think I'm losing my mind and taking Ron with me. Or maybe the other way around."

Ginny reached out and squeezed her sister-in-law's hand.

"Alright, let's move on," she said. "Okay, so after Hugo was attacked--another reason to be grateful for Snape--both of you had this epiphany and decided to come clean, but he got to the punch line first. For some reason, still unclear, you've decided to try make it all work until the end of the school year because of a twisted form of affection you share and his miraculous use of money he never told you about," here Ginny narrowed her eyes, because she hadn't liked that part one bit, "which you were willing to forgive, because Snape had a heart attack and suddenly everything else seemed trivial. Can you guess where my next line of questioning is going to lead?"

Hermione looked down at her teacup as if it held all the answers.

"Yeah," said Ginny. "I was a little afraid of that. So, when did this start?"

"I don't know," her sister-in-law answered. "I'm really not sure. I've tried to make sense of it, look at it from different directions, but I just can't see a point where it switched from concern and care to... I suppose obsession feels like as good a word as any."

"Where's Snape in all this?"

"Currently in an induced coma recovering from growing new heart muscle," Hermione shot back.

"You know that is not what I meant."

"Oh, Gin. I know what you're asking, but I'm not sure of the answer. We've been dancing around each other since the end of last winter. By the spring we had come to a sort of understanding, if one can with that man. I think we were both put off by the fact that I'm married, and he basically admitted that, although he was attracted, he didn't want to be. I accepted that. Most days, anyway. Then he started acting oddly. You remember me telling you about that. He basically disappeared into the bowels of the castle for weeks. When I did see him again long enough to have a conversation, he was…different. He kept confusing me with his conflicting messages. He would act aloof one minute and then practically stare my clothes off the next."

"Do you think he might be acting in the same strange and irrational way as you and Ron?"

Hermione stared off into the distance with a small frown creasing her brow. "I can't really say. I don't think I know him well enough to understand what normal is for that man."

"That makes sense. So let's just say he was acting in an odd way and leave that door open. So when did you two finally…?"

"We haven't."

"You haven't? I thought you had. Why do you look so guilty? Gods, Hermione, I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that. I have to tell you hearing about you cheating on my brother would have been a bit hard to take. I mean I'm here for you. Don't doubt that. But still, this is kind of hard to have sprung on you."

"To be perfectly honest, it's not like I don't want to. Hell, it's all I can think about now. A fact that bothers me no end." She placed a hand on her belly. "Ever since that night I was with Ron after the ball. I was really drunk, did I say that? Anyway, I sort of noticed that I wasn't paying attention to Ron. While he was trying to dazzle me with tricks he learned from other women, I was off in my own head making love to Severus." She dropped her head on her neck. "My baby was conceived by the most pathetic parents in the world. Gods, if you needed a permit for this shite, I would lose mine."

"You are hardly the first woman to fantasize during sex, Mi. So you and Ron are going to have another child, although Ron doesn't know it. Lavender is waiting patiently until next summer for Ron to be free. Some bitch in Italy is snaffling up your money and getting fat with a kid I'm going to have to pretend is just part of our big happy family. You're running around looking guilty as sin for dreaming under the influence. Where, in all of this, is the part where you're so guilty you let my brother off the hook? Honestly, you're looking a little doormat-like here. Stealing his furniture and jinxing his bed are spectacularly immature acts, but hardly equal."

"No, it's not like that, Gin. Ron and I made each other miserable. Before all this other mess, I would have put us at exactly equal as far as blame goes. But well, I'm not exactly innocent. I said Severus and I haven't had sex yet. I didn't say I didn't try."

"Oh. I'm sensing that didn't go over particularly well since there is still a lack of carnal knowledge."

"Well, I'd just found out I was pregnant, and he found me upset. He tried to help take over the potion I was working on, but the tension just built up until I thought I would scream. And it just felt so good to be near him. I wasn't thinking clearly. Anyway, I made a move, and he pushed me away and verbally eviscerated me. He really shredded what little dignity I had left. I didn't speak to him again until this term started up."

"Oh, ouch. I bet you were still really mad when you saw him again."

"That's the weird thing. I was, right up until I got to the school. I was really late, and my magic was already wonky. He came running out of the school to help me, and I was so stupidly happy to see him, I just stood there like a daft cow. But he seemed just as happy to see me. I mean really happy, Gin. Like seeing him made my life complete somehow. After I thought about it, it kind of scared me. I avoided him like the plague after that."

Ginny gave her a speculative look. "Have you two touched each other?"

"I told you, we haven't--"

"No, not had sex_. Touched_ each other."

"Well, yeah."

"Did it tingle?"

"No. It feels good though. Amazingly good. And when we kissed, Merlin, I could have died right there and been a happy woman."

"Kissed? You didn't say anything about a kiss!"

"Just the one, but it was a hell of a kiss."

"When did you kiss?"

"Well, right before he had the heart attack."

"Holy hell, Mi. You're a deadly moo!"

"It wasn't funny, Gin."

"No, I guess it wasn't. Sorry. So you two kissed, and he collapsed?"

"Not quite. It was after Ron admitted everything, and I was really upset. He found me wandering around hysterical and pulled me into a classroom. Everything was so twisted up in my head, and the only thing I could concentrate on was how right it felt when he held me. It was like stepping into an oasis of peace. I can't describe it. It was like we'd been waiting forever and couldn't anymore. Physically, couldn't. And we kissed. It seems like we kissed for hours. And then he asked me what was wrong, and I explained, and he asked me if I was pregnant, and I told him, and then he tried to tell me something. He said there was something I needed to know, but he started to choke on the words, and then he had a heart attack."

Hermione teared up as the memory hit her all over again.

"Hermione, what did he tell you?"

"He tried to tell me something about the baby. All he managed to get out before he collapsed was that it would be dangerous to tell Ron about the baby."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know. I haven't been able to ask him. When he woke up, Pomfrey and Sinistra were there, so I just asked him if he wanted to try my healing potion, and he agreed. He's been asleep for six days now. I think Phineas knows something; he gave me a weird message to do what Severus said and then disappeared. I haven't seen him in his frame since."

"He's here."

"What?"

"Phineas is hardly ever here anymore, but he showed up here about a week ago and has been roaming through the house all week." Ginny gestured behind them to the empty frame on the wall across the room.

"What a surprise. He's gone now." She stood up and went over to the frame where she called and knocked on the sides, but to no avail. She gave up and came back to the couch, pouring more tea before she sat down.

"Hermione, can I ask you one more time if you felt any tingling when you and Snape touched, or kissed? Think hard now. It would feel like a sort of electricity."

"No. But I did feel that the night of the ball with Ron."

"That makes no sense, unless you two were stupid enough to hold a drunken bonding ceremony after all this time."

"No, we didn't. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, maybe I'm just spinning fairy dust here, but you describe this thing between you and Severus like it's a bond."

"What do you mean?"

"When you kiss, it's like coming home?"

"Yes."

"When you touch it's almost ridiculously pleasant?"

"Yes."

"When either of you is really upset the other one feels it?"

"No. Or well, he seemed to be there a few times when I was upset, but I can't say I've ever felt his mood."

"Damn, then it could just be him being observant and a good kisser. What doesn't make sense is you suddenly feeling the tingle with Ron after all these years." Ginny fell silent, thinking hard about the facts as she knew them. She reached out and grabbed Hermione's wrist. "Wait! Pregnancy will interrupt the connection since your magic turns inward to protect the baby. Did you and Severus ever touch _before_ you got pregnant?"

"Only when I fixed his nose. I smeared Bruise Paste and Healing Salve on his face."

"No tingle?"

"Not that I recall, but I was a bit distracted at the time."

"True, and he was as well. You don't remember anything funny about that day?"

"No. Oh! Yes, now that you mention it. There was the thing about his blanket."

"I'm sorry?"

"Forget it. Too complicated to explain. But that was the day I first started to suspect that perhaps he was attracted to me. When I first started to think about him in _that_ way."

"So perhaps that first touch could have set it off."

"Ginny, what are you talking about? What is all this about the tingles?"

Ginny looked at her with confusion and then dawning understanding.

"You're Muggleborn! Of course you don't understand! I'm so stupid! I'm talking about _bonding_. You and Ron never did, and I forgot you probably never would've had the chance to research it. Because you're Muggleborn, you wouldn't feel a bond as strongly until the second part of the ritual.

"Okay, let me back up. There are three kinds of Life Mate Bonding. There's the Marriage Bond. In it, two people decided to get married whether or not they care for each other. After the first part of the ceremony, they feel a pull towards one another. Muggleborn folk usually only feel a diminished pull. The second part of the ceremony is where you start with the tingling. When you physically touch each other, there's a really pleasurable electricity that passes between you both. It's your magic synchronizing with your partner's. The third part of the ritual is consummation. When you achieve climax in unison, and your and your partner's magic join. After consummation, there is an intense pleasure at each other's touch, but it isn't as urgent. The bond is established and so the pull isn't as strong. That's what Harry and I share."

"Oh," Hermione said, tearing up. "And I denied this to Ron all these years? We would have been happy if we'd had a bonding ceremony?"

"I don't know, Hermione, but I think there are enough unhappy marriages in the Wizarding world to say that happiness isn't guaranteed. A Marriage Bond can be betrayed as easily as a Muggle vow, and then it will start to decay."

Hermione almost felt better for hearing that. Almost.

"Tell me about the two other bonds," she said.

"Well, there is the Lover's Bond where two people meet and fall in love. They can choose to bond without the ceremony if their love is true. They can consciously release their magic at the moment of climax and join. It's a bit tricky. All the ducks have to be in a row. Lots of young lovers try for it as a romantic gesture, the sodding idiots. If it doesn't happen, it means their love wasn't true, and they usually set to bickering right away, proving their own foolishness."

"And the third?"

"Well, the third bond is the rarest. It's the Soul Bond. It's the stuff of great romances and great tragedies. Two people are born sharing one soul. If they find their way to each other, something that can be incredibly difficult, and the Soul Bond is activated, also something with tricky parameters to meet, then there is almost nothing that can separate them. Their own souls would demand they complete the bond. They would need neither ritual, nor ceremony, nor pact or agreement. If they have sex, they bond. There are no ifs, ands, or buts. They bond for life, and when one dies, the other follows. If the bond is activated, and the lovers are separated before it is completed, terrible things could happen. It's the basis for a hundred plays and a thousand poems."

Hermione felt a sinking in her gut.

"Terrible like what? What terrible things could happen?"

"Well, first," Ginny's eyes grew huge, "they would go insane." The two women shared a look laden with dread.

"Tell me about the tingles again. Why did I feel them with Ron?"

"Well, you see? Nothing makes sense. What you describe with Severus sounds like a bond already joined, but not quite. What you described with Ron that night, the tingles, if it had been the first time for both of you I would have said it sounds like a spontaneous bond at work."

"Spontaneous bond? Is that a fourth bond?"

"No, it's what happens with the Soul Bond. But if you and Ron were Soul Mates, you wouldn't have taken over fifteen years to notice. Even without your bidding, your magic would have poured out of you when you two had sex the first time."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as a memory came rushing back to stab her.

"Oh, fuck _me_," Hermione said, shooting up off the couch. "I'll kill the fucking bastard!"

"Who?"

"_Both_ of them! Oh, gods above and below, how could I have been so _blind! _Everything makes _sense_ now."

"I'm glad it makes sense to one of us. Do you want to share? I'm a little left out here, and I did all the talking."

Hermione spun around until she was facing over the back of the sofa.

"_You knew!" _she hissed. Ginny jumped up and spun around, pulling her wand out in the process. Phineas Nigellus Black stared back at her from his frame, a calm but sad expression on his face.

"Not until after you left the castle the night you told me he had rejected you."

"You could have sent word."

"He convinced me it would harm you."

"That's why he pushed me away?"

"Yes. He didn't know you were pregnant. He believed if he touched you, he would die."

"He almost did anyway! Someone should have fucking told me!"

"Hold on just a minute!" shouted Ginny. "What the bloody hell is going on!"

Hermione spun and looked at her, tears streaming down her face.

"It wasn't bloody _Ron!_" she cried.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that sodding _life debt_!"

"The life debt? _Snape's?_ Ron would never call on the life debt, would he?"

"Yes, the selfish bastard did. Albus even said he thought it was some kind of blackmail. Oh, Ginny! Ron made Severus do something so fucking stupid, I can't even breathe right!"

"Bloody hell! What did he do?"

"He found a way to have his cake and eat it too! No wonder he was so sure it would never make the papers. He even said as much, 'She never even knew who I was,' and I thought he was upset she didn't know he was supposed to be bloody famous!"

"Hermione, you're not making sense!"

"Ron made Severus brew Polyjuice Potion so he could sneak out and play without getting caught. Phineas and I drove ourselves demented trying to figure out what Severus was doing that was making him so obviously miserable. He had no choice but to help Ron go be a bastard! But that wasn't good enough! Ginny, Ron made Severus _drink _it! That was _him_ at the ball. The _voice_! The tingles--oh bloody hell--Ginny, this is Severus's baby! He took advantage of me! My bloody _Soul Mate!_" Hermione was completely hysterical now, and Ginny tried to soothe her while she also tried to get a handle on everything coming out of her friend's mouth. "He wanted to tell me as soon as he found out, but the life debt gave him a fucking heart attack. He knew it would. _Gods! _He almost killed himself to claim his own child. The bloody idiot!"

Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle and collapsed onto the sofa in tears. Ginny pulled Hermione's head against her stomach and held her. She looked over at the portrait.

"Is this true?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"So. A splendid mess _this_ is. Well, I say we go confront Ron with his crime."

"You _mustn't_," said the portrait.

"Why the hell not?" snapped Ginny.

"There are layers you haven't explored yet. Like why did Snape tell her not to let Weasley know about the baby?"

Ginny looked down at her sister-in-law and friend. Hermione pulled away a little.

"He just said it was dangerous."

"Exactly," Phineas replied.

"Why?" asked Ginny.

"Because your brother's sanity is hanging by a thread," replied the Slytherin Headmaster.

Ginny's mouth dropped open in surprise, and Hermione stopped crying, raising her head to look at the portrait in horror. Both women moved around the couch to get closer to the portrait.

"How long has it been activated?" Ginny asked. "I only broke his nose a couple of months before!"

"Almost seventeen years," the portrait responded. "The night Snape almost died. She helped heal him."

"Oh, merciful fate. Seventeen years? Why are any of them sane?"

"What do you mean? Explain it to me," demanded Hermione.

"You have to understand the nature of a Soul Bond. It is as she explained," said Phineas nodding his head towards Ginny. "You are two people born sharing the same soul."

"How is that possible? Severus was born twenty years before I was."

"What is time to a soul?"

"I don't understand," said Hermione in a small, confused voice. Ginny went and grabbed a chair and pushed it over towards Hermione and sat her down in it, before grabbing another for herself. "Someone explain this in small words," Hermione said. "You keep making the assumption I understand what you're talking about, and I assure you, I don't."

Ginny used her wand to call over the tissue box and handed it over to her sister-in-law. She rubbed her back and let her cry, finally giving in to her own grief for her brother's fate and joining her. Eventually, Hermione lifted her head and wiped her face.

"You said… You said something earlier about his sanity hanging by a thread?" she asked the portrait.

"It's a reflection of your husband's strength that he has lasted this long. He has been trapped between two Soul Mates all these years. He has also held a life debt, another form of Soul magic. It would have made a lesser man dangerously unstable almost as soon as the former Headmaster showed up at the school."

"What do you mean when he showed up?"

"Your husband had been fighting, and fighting well, against the _passive_ influence of an active bond for fifteen years. But there was nothing passive about it when Severus showed up. It was more like locking two alpha dogs in a cage. The fact that your husband didn't become irrational until almost a year later is rather amazing. Severus didn't last nearly as long as I would have thought, for all his being such a cerebral creature."

Even Ginny's head came up at that.

"What do you mean?"

"Prof--Hermione," Phineas said with pity. "Hermione, your bond with Severus is incomplete. Weasley's bond with you is incomplete. Both men are trapped by their circumstances. Weasley is infinitely more dangerous because of his years of exposure, but also because he called upon the life debt. His soul is already fragile."

"Alright, I understand that. What makes you say Severus might be in danger as well?"

"The child you carry. He _knows_ it's his. Knowledge has an incredible influence on a bond. Once you become aware of it, it becomes even more powerful. When he first found out about the Soul Bond, he planned on making a quiet exit and never letting you know--a stupid, Gryffindor gesture that would have led to his own madness and eventual death. He thought that would free you to find happiness somewhere more worthy. Idiot man. But there's no chance of that now. Snape nearly killed himself to acknowledge that child you carry, does that sound like that act of a rational man? What good would it have done had he gotten the words out, and then dropped dead at your feet? And there was nothing to stop him from telling you about the Soul Bond. He zeroed in on the child and caught himself up against the life debt. No, I fear you have two men, locked in a primal, instinctive, territorial dispute. Weasley seems to be slightly better at it."

"How do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"On a deeper level, he's aware. He _hasn't_ attacked Snape. He's actively tried to find another woman to share his soul. He's trying to free himself, but to do it, he has to hurt you, which I'm guessing is not a natural part of his personality. No, I admire his strength. But I think he's quite doomed, and Severus as well. If Weasley finds out Severus has _already_ been with you, that you are already carrying _his_ child. I don't see how he could be strong enough to resist his instinct to eliminate the threat. To kill him. I think Severus fears he might even go after you and the child as well, though I suspect he's too strong for that. His soul is still good, what shreds are left of it.

"Severus has already shown a lack of clear thinking in the matter. He knows Weasley is a threat. Don't think your husband is safe from Severus because of the life debt; the Soul Bond supersedes it. Severus will try to kill him before he harms you. His soul isn't good _enough_."

"His magic is bound!'"

"He doesn't need it."

"My potions stores are all locked!"

"Hermione," said Phineas, sadly. "He was a Death Eater. They considered it more _elegant _to use magic to kill, but that didn't mean they weren't all well-versed in other means."

"We'll make sure Ron doesn't find out! Ron won't snap until he finds out, yes? You said knowing makes it worse."

"That will just give Severus time to be preemptive."

"There's got to be something we can do!" shouted Ginny.

"The only thing I can see that will stop the inevitable is to complete the bonding with Severus. Once your soul is fully claimed, both of them should be free of the influence of the incomplete bonds."

"How do I complete the bond?"

"Remove his cuff. His magic has been waiting since last June to finish the bond."

"You can't," Ginny chimed in. "Removing the cuff will bring Aurors. There are wards on it. He would be arrested immediately and sent back to Azkaban."

"Gods above. That leaves us trying to keep them away from each other for nearly two more months!" wailed Hermione.

"Can you keep Severus in a coma that long?" asked Ginny.

Hermione scowled at her.

"What? It's just an idea."

"You don't just stick people in storage, Gin. Even if it was even close to medically sound, how would I explain it? He just had a full medical examination right down to the amount of keratin protein in his toe nails."

"I say poison Weasley," chimed Phineas, earning dual glares. He raised his eyebrows and mimicked Ginny. "Just an idea."

"We need help," said Hermione.

"Harry," said Ginny.

"Albus," said Phineas.

"Lavender," said Hermione, surprising the others. She launched herself out of the chair. Scrubbing her face with a tissue, she said, "Phineas, go back to the castle and let Albus and Minerva know what's going on. Everything; no Slytherin power games. Ginny, tell Harry as soon as possible, but I want a Wizarding Oath out of him first. I don't need any of his idiot heroics. He'll get someone killed."

"Meet me at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow afternoon. I'll owl you with a time."

"Where are you going?" asked Ginny as she followed Hermione out of the room.

"To confront the _other_ other woman."

"Hermione, are you sure this is a good idea? Think of the baby. You've had a terrible shock. Don't you want me to come at least?"

Hermione turned and gave her an evil smirk.

"Trust me."

*

Ginny walked back into the library and picked up one of the chairs and moved to put it back.

"So how long does she have?" Ginny asked.

"Not as long as we would have wished. She's had moments of irrationality all along since he slept with her. The knowing will kick in now. It's not just an active bond that hasn't been completed. It's partially completed. The pregnancy will accelerate her decline since it also affects her soul."

Ginny slammed down the chair.

"Why couldn't you have told me? Or Harry? How long have you known, Phineas? You know she thinks of you as her friend. I can't help but feel like you've betrayed her."

"What could you have done, Mrs. Potter? I spared you the burden of watching her. You should be grateful. It has been terrible to see, I assure you." Ginny watched as the Slytherin Headmaster stormed out of his portrait. Probably back off to Hogwarts. She sat down in the chair and cried.

* * *

Lavender Brown apparated to a secluded spot near the little cottage she shared with her mother in Chaffcombe. Both arms were loaded down with groceries, and she checked the bags to make sure nothing had been too disturbed in transit. Seeing they were fine, she set off up the lane to her home. It was a blustery day, so she pulled her mauve-colored scarf up higher around her chin as she pushed the gate open with her ample hip. She made a cursory survey of her sleeping rose bushes, cut back for the winter, before tromping up the steps to the front door. She jumped in fright when someone stood up from the chair that was sat in the garden next to the door.

"Hello, Lavender. Been a long time hasn't it? Here, let me help you with those bags."

*

* * *

Not so bumpy today, yes? A very smooth flight. And quiet. Almost like the engines stalled...

Reviews make me type a lot. Honest. Just sayin'...


	17. Hovering

**AN:** Thank you to my spectacular betas; they don't only keep it readable, they remind me that Hugo had red hair and Snape has black. Thank you to all my faithful readers who noticed I was behind on updates. Yes, I went an entire 12 hours without a connection and couldn't post. It was horrible, I tells ya!

We're plunging closer to the falls, I mean the end. And now, like any good Soap Opera, today's episode contains the manditory Special Guest Star! Or something...

* * *

"Hello, Poppy. How's the patient today?" she said as she breezed into the infirmary.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. He's good. I would even say he's more than good. I think we could probably bring him up out of it this evening. His signs have held at the perfect levels for two days. There's no more room for improvement."

"True. Perhaps we should. However, the potion is still in the trials stage at St Mungo's, and I would hate for some unforeseen circumstance to alert them to the fact that we jumped the gun. My Arithmantic calculations showed it best to leave him until tomorrow, but then again, I'm not the medical professional. What do you think?"

"I guess I don't see the harm in one more day. Aurora wouldn't be pleased if it got out that we did something as foolish as accidentally killing her pet prisoner. Any more bad press, and she just might lose her job. Besides, the poor sod's probably not had this much rest since he was a child."

Hermione nodded distractedly, looking at the parchment next to the bed that held the record of his vitals and the times of his potions.

"Whatever you think best, Poppy. You know I'm here mostly to check the progress of my potion; you're the one that keeps him ticking. I see he's due for another draught, so we need to make a decision."

"Leave the man be," the nurse said. "The draught's right there, if you would do the honors. I think half a dose if we want to wake him tomorrow. I'll give him the other half tonight, and then we'll let him wake on his own in the morning. It's Monday for all of us, might as well be for him too."

"True, but he still gets to laze around in bed for the rest of the week. We don't."

The nurse tutted at her and then grabbed her shawl and headed towards the door.

"Go ahead and dose him. I'm going to head to Irma's office before dinner. The wards will alert me if anyone comes in, so you can just show yourself out."

"Alright Poppy. I'm just going to run a few tests and then head to my office and write up my notes. I know we can't submit this trial, but I can use it as a baseline for their data when I get it."

The school nurse just shook her head at the Potion mistress' endless search for knowledge and left with a last wave.

When she was gone, Hermione dropped into the chair next to the bed as all her breath came out of a loud woof. She lifted her head and stared at the sleeping man on the bed.

"How do you Slytherins make it through an entire day without losing your minds?" she huffed. Of course there was no response. She reached out and took his hand in hers, enjoying the almost outrageous pleasure that touch brought her. Phineas was right. Knowledge of the bond made it that much more intense. She didn't know how much he could feel or register in his induced coma, but she made it a point to come and sit by him and touch him at least once a day. Someone else did as well. When she lifted up his hand, she saw yet another scrap of parchment tucked into his palm, saying: 'Get Well Soon.' There had been one of these a day since he had taken ill. Poppy had no idea who was leaving them. They just appeared. It seemed at least one student cared that the caretaker was ill. She put the scrap in a drawer with the others, next to his pillow.

"Severus, I don't know if you can hear me. But I want you to know that I understand now. I know everything. _Everything. _I'll find a way out of this. For all of us.

"I want you to know I'm sorry. Sorry for not seeing the truth. I'm sorry for not sparing you from even a little of this wretched drama." She sighed deeply.

"But, also, I want to say I'm rather angry at you. You took advantage of me that night. I did a good bit of reading on the subject last evening, and I understand this pull and how it can cloud judgment. But I can't say it makes me feel better to have slept with another man and gotten pregnant while still married. I understand Ron and I weren't meant to be together, but he is still my husband.

"This _knowing_ part that Phineas talked about, it does change things. It's like I can see things differently now that the fog has cleared. And I realize that I _have_ always loved Ron." Her voice caught on those last words. "I've spent a lot of time thinking, remembering, and I finally see what has been happening to us all these years. I hope you can understand, Severus. I feel my connection to you. More than that, I feel like I need you. But I see now how much Ron and I tried to fight this thing between you and me. He's been my friend and my lover, and he's the father of my children, and I will never be able to completely give that up. I will give _him _up. That's inevitable now. And I will give you my soul, incomplete as it is. But Ron and I will always share something that started when we were just young children. I hope, once this bond is complete, that you can accept that."

She brought his hand up and rubbed it with her cheek, smearing tears cross the pale knuckles. She felt his hand twitch in her grip. He was past due for his dose of Draught of the Living Death. She looked at his face and saw the flickering start under his nearly translucent eyelids as he slipped into the R.E.M. cycle he had been denied these long days. She stood up and folded back the blankets revealing the thin hospital robes that he wore and laid her head down gently, her ear over his heart. She listened to the strong, healthy beat and let it lull her.

"I need you, Severus," she whispered, indulging in the sense of completeness she felt whenever she was this close.

His long legs shifted, one bending up and the other sliding to the side. A long fingered hand came up and rested on her neck, the weight of it settling on her like a blessing. She turned her eyes to his still sleeping face and saw just the slightest crease between his brows. His other hand came up and settled over her belly protectively, before he sighed and drifted deeper away.

Hermione pulled back slowly. She took the potion, already measured into half doses and reached down and drew his mouth open. She poured the draught in while murmuring the incantation needed to make him swallow. She watched him, resettling his limbs, until his eyelids stilled and his face went totally slack, devoid of any level of consciousness. She pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and kissed his forehead.

Stepping away from the bed, she took one last look at her Soul Mate, not sure what to make of the fact that, even deep in a drugged sleep, he was aware of the baby. Somehow that thought wasn't as comforting as she would have liked.

* * *

Hermione slipped into the Three Broomsticks, keeping her face hidden under her hood, and made her way to a private room in the back. She knocked once on the door and then opened it and hurried inside. Pulling off her cloak, she hung it on a peg by the door before turning to greet the other witch in the room.

"Hello, Lavender. I'm really glad you came. Harry and Ginny will be along soon."

"I know," the other woman replied. "I went to Flourish and Blotts to look for books on Soul magic and ran into her in the same section. She told me they would be here as well."

Hermione saw the other women looked nervous at the prospect.

"Don't worry about Harry. I'll keep him from doing anything stupid. We all need to work together." Hermione bit her lip. "Unless you have decided you don't want to stay?"

"Oh, I'm staying," she said in a soft, feminine voice. A tray of food arrived and a pot of tea. "I went ahead and ordered some things. I hope you like roast beef sandwiches."

"Lovely," Hermione replied. The two women took the time to fill their plates in an awkward silence.

Hermione was struck again at how unkind time had been to the witch, as if she had wasted all her beauty being a young girl and had little left over for her thirties. She immediately castigated herself. She was no raving beauty either. She just had assumed Ron would have preferred one of the dazzling women she'd had to sit with at all those Quidditch awards ceremonies. But Lavender had morphed into a faded rose with a good bit of extra padding, a pleasant, if sad smile, and a slightly needy air. Years of taking care of her mother had obviously taken their toll. Hermione could see where this would be exactly what Ron would want. Someone who clearly made him feel needed in a way she herself had never been free to express. It hurt.

"You do realize that this is more than weird, don't you?" the woman said.

"If you remember our days in school, you know that my entire _life_ has been weird. Somehow this has begun to feel par for the course."

"True, but Soul Mates? Good lord, what would Trelawney say?"

"Truthfully? I think Sybill had been trying to tell me for a couple of years before she left, but you remember my opinion of Divination."

Lavender gave her a cautious smile in agreement.

"And I also thought she was giving me grief about my marriage. I remember her announcing loudly at dinner that 'I shouldn't be here when my other half wasn't.' I mean, it's not like I would immediately leap to any other conclusion. And then yelling down the hall in that voice she had, that 'what I was searching for was locked away, and I would never find it until it found me.' I mean, it's vague enough to easily blow it off, but she was always so surprised when I would get angry. It became obvious she _wasn't _trying to take the piss. I only realized she might have been referring to Severus last night when I was staring at the ceiling at three in the morning. I just assumed the daft woman had been at the sherry again."

Hermione rubbed at her eyes.

"I only wish I had been half so smart as her now. She knew enough to cut her losses and leave. I stayed, hoping to effect change from within. I'm the one that damned Ron and myself to this existence."

"You had to stay," said Lavender. "If you had left, how else would Snape have found you? Honestly, it's a Soul Bond, Hermione. If what you say is true, and it's been active all these years, how much free will do you think was involved? You're just lucky you're not all demented at this point."

Hermione gave the other woman a long look.

"I'm not sure we aren't. So, I assume you have thought things through?" she asked.

"As you said, it's amazing what becomes clear at three in the morning. You've been waiting all these years for your man to get out of prison. So have I."

Hermione looked at her for a long time.

"Are you saying you and Ron are Soul Mates?"

Lavender snorted.

"Hardly. Not everyone's lives are so full of drama. No, we would have known back in the sixth year if we were. Believe me, we had more than opportunity to spontaneously bond, if it was going to happen. I just always knew he was the one for me." Hermione watched the woman's face as she relived an especially pleasant memory. She found herself curiously unfazed by Lavender's obvious enjoyment of Ron as a lover. She was actually a bit mystified, but refrained from asking any strange questions. "I understand now why we didn't work before. We were too immature, and I was too flighty. Plus, you were a hard act to follow. As much as I tried, I could never get him to put you in the past. It made me insecure, and I wasn't at my best. I think I understand now that you'll never be in his past. I think if I hadn't been so ready to treat you as a rival back then, I could have kept him."

"No," Hermione said. "I don't think so. I was so hurt when he started dating you, I don't see where I would have been open to a closer friendship with you. We would never have been able to come to any kind of understanding back then. We were all too young."

"You think we can come to one now?" Lavender asked.

"Look, I loved Ron once with my whole heart. Before everything turned to dust and ashes. And I do love him now, but nowhere near the same and not even remotely in the way he needs or deserves. Even if you were a complete slag, if it would keep him alive, I would throw myself at your feet. I'm not going to lie, Lav. Like I said yesterday, finding out he went back to you hurt. But in a childish, selfish way. Looking at you, I can see where you have so many qualities he would want and need. The only important matter now is, if you are really being honest in wanting him enough to play for keeps. His life is literally at stake here."

Lavender narrowed her eyes at Hermione.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she said, not bothering to hide the slight belligerence in her tone.

"So you are," Hermione replied.

There was a knock on the door, and both women turned to see Harry and Ginny enter.

"What's she doing here?" said Harry, yanking off his cloak and hanging it on the peg before turning and taking Ginny's cloak. He hung that up as well and with noticeably more care.

"She's here because I asked her to be here. Ron needs someone in his corner. From what I read last night and my long conversation with Albus and Minerva, there's a good chance I just might become even more irrational than I've been already. As much as I might like to think I have Ron's best interests in mind intellectually, I'm afraid that a good long look at my own behavior shows that's not the case. Ron has chosen Lavender to anchor his soul. She needs to be here. If that's not enough for you, you are welcome to leave, Harry." Hermione glowered at him until he backed down and took a seat. Ginny snarled at him and turned towards Lavender with an apologetic smile.

"Hello, Lavender. I'm sorry for that. This has been a shock to us all, but some of us are having issues with minding other people's morals to the point of losing the big picture." She glared at her husband again.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean to be such a prat. But I'm really having a hard time with the idea of some kind of magical pressure forcing people to cheat on their vows. It smacks of belated justification."

"We've been over this three times today," said Ginny. "Cheating on your bonded mate is more common than we would like to think. You heard George. There is a whole subculture to it." She saw Hermione's confused look and explained. "A Marriage Bond is for life. When the marriage starts to go sour the bond breaks down. No more pleasurable touches. No more shared emotions. George told us that there are accepted protocols in such cases. Some of his friends have had mistresses for years. However it's just not talked about. It's part of some left-over Pureblood culture that Weasleys have never indulged in."

"It's still wrong," muttered Harry. "Ron and Hermione didn't even have a Bonding ceremony. He could have just left her. There was no reason to hurt Hermione or cause further risk to his children. I won't even go into how angry I am at his treatment of Snape. I _should_ bring him up on charges."

Lavender gasped quietly, and Hermione shot a look at Ginny.

"You told me to tell him," Ginny said with an annoyed glance at her red-faced husband. "He _is_ under an oath though. So as much as he blusters, he can't do a damned thing unless I let him. Don't let him scare you, Lavender. He really does understand what's going on. He just needs to get it off his chest a bit."

"I'm right here," Harry snapped, waving a hand and knocking his own glasses askew. "I'm quite capable of talking for myself, you know."

"Oh, do shut up, Harry," Ginny said as she reached out and straightened his specs.

Hermione tapped the table with her wand and heaved a frustrated sigh when nothing happened. Lavender pulled out her wand and tapped the table and a fresh pot of tea arrived. Harry and Ginny grabbed sandwiches and were just starting in on their food when there was another knock on the door.

Everyone turned in time to see a cloaked figure enter the room. A hood was pulled back, and the first thing they all saw was the enormous glasses that covered half the woman's face.

"Hello, Sybill," said Hermione. "Thank you for coming."

* * *

"So, explain to me what exactly Soul Mates are," Harry asked, pouring more tea. "I only know what Ginny has told me since yesterday." He handed the cup to his old Divinations Professor who took it with a fluttery thanks.

Sybill Trelawney seemed unchanged since her days as a teacher. Still draped in beads and scarves, and still enveloped in an air of absentmindedness that made it easy to discount any and everything she said. However, as Hermione listened with her mind and not her ears, she realized that for all the woman's irritating delivery, she really did seem to know her stuff.

"Soul Mates," she began with an annoying intonation, "don't always have to be lovers. They don't always find each other, and they don't even have to always share the same life cycle, with one dying just as the other is born. Nothing dreadful happens if one doesn't find one's Soul Mate. They just experience a sense of incompleteness that could easily be blamed on bad choices in various aspects of life.

"It is said that Soul Bonds are rare, but it is only because they need to come together, need to find the other half of their soul hiding somewhere on this vast, earthly plane. And even then, the finding would not in itself cause the two desperate halves to merge. They have to call out to one another and act to release their fated bond."

"What? What made the bond between Hermione and Snape active then?" Harry probed.

"Dying will always cause a soul to cry out," she answered with a dramatic quaver. She turned towards Hermione. "Had you been halfway around the world, you would have felt it. You would have felt a sudden sense of terrible loss, but eventually the feeling would have dissipated. Had he died, your soul would have been reintegrated. You would have eventually found a sense of completeness and started to manifest personality traits that belonged to the other without ever being aware. Indeed, you already did. I always thought it highly tragic that you took up Potions." Hermione struggled not to glare at the woman. She was only trying to help after all.

"What else? What 'act' made the bond active?" she asked.

"Touch. When young Mr. Weasley brought Severus into the hall that night, you took over healing him."

"Yes," said Hermione. "I _had _to. I was so proud of Ron, he seemed like such a hero to me. Harry and I took over, and I started to cast the healing charms."

"And you touched him in the process. Skin contact. Tell me, do you remember Mr. Weasley's response to that?"

"He…he actually tried to pull me away. Oh, Merlin, I snapped at him. But it doesn't make sense. I don't remember feeling anything for Severus but respect and relief and, well, I do remember feeling horribly, horribly sad when I thought he was dead. Honestly, I thought he was still a Death Eater when he was attacked. So, when you look back on it, my sudden grief didn't really make sense at that moment."

"It is as I said; your soul was weeping for your dying mate."

Hermione made a moue of distaste. "I didn't feel this…pull until last winter. I didn't feel tingles when I worked on him that night, and I didn't feel tingles when I fixed his nose. He…um… broke it last year."

"You're Muggle," Trelawney said by way of explanation. She reached out and placed a bony hand on Hermione's wrist as if to express condolences. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the woman.

"She's right, Mi," added Ginny. "You didn't grow up with the same instinctive connection to your magic as a Pureblood would."

"Okay, I'll accept that. So are you saying that Severus was pining away for me the entire time he was in prison?"

"Alas, I have no doubt he was. However, the horrors of his own reality would have overshadowed his existence to the point where one more constant grief weighing his soul down like an anchor would not have been noticed. That poor, poor man." Lavender reached out and patted Trelawney's hand as she poked behind her enormous glasses to dab at her eyes. "I saw it. I saw his doom stalking him all those years."

Hermione didn't know whether to roll her eyes or burst into tears of sadness.

"When would Snape have become aware of the Soul Bond, Sybill?" asked Ginny with an apologetic grimace to Hermione.

"Oh, I doubt he knew it consciously at all. That is, he didn't until the night you two finally came together, so to speak. Your Muggle heritage obviously insulated you from the knowing. From understanding. But the same would hardly have been true for Severus. He's a Half-Blood, yes. But he is completely submersed in our world and all its traditions. He wasn't the type to pick and choose what parts he wanted to accept." Trelawney cast a vaguely accusatory glance at Hermione and then recoiled from the answering expression.

"Fine," Hermione said. "Explain to me what is happening to Ron. And if Severus and I were fated to be together, how the hell did Ron and I end up in such a disaster?"

"I can answer that," said Ginny. "Love. I've had some time to think about it, and I did a bit of reading on the subject this morning." She nodded at Lavender. "You and Ron had already become involved. All those months the three of you were out chasing Horcruxes and getting tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, you were also bonding in a way. You've said it yourself. You never understood what changed. You cared so much for him before it all turned sour. Ron and you fellin love. I would guess that had you been silly enough to try for the Lover's Bond, it would have worked. You two had faced obstacles and terrors and near death together since you were firsties. Somewhere along the line, Ron committed his soul to you. Not a magical bond, a human one. One even Muggles experience. I suspect on some level, you did the same, not knowing your soul was already claimed." Ginny turned to Sybill for confirmation.

"Oh, yes, indeed," she said somberly. "If Severus had died in that shack, you and your husband most likely would have been very, very happy together."

Hermione thought that over. "I can't even conceive it," she said. "We've driven each other nearly mad for years."

"But that's actually the reason _why_," Ginny said. "Because if the bond between you and Snape was really active since the night Harry defeated Voldemort, then it's been working all these years to push Ron _away_. You couldn't move on, and you couldn't settle in. Your own soul was trying to reject him, but your heart wouldn't. Hermione, if you and Ron didn't love each other enough to fight the influence of an active bond, then forty children, the perfect job, or even an entire army of Weasleys that came to tap dance to amuse you for your birthday every year couldn't have kept you together. You and Ron were miserable, but reached for the flimsiest of excuses to _stay together_. You have loved each other all these years through the filter of the other bond's influence."

Hermione nodded and dabbed at her own eyes with her napkin.

"How do we make it stop? How do we get Ron out from under the influence of his own personal bond with me?"

"You can't," Sybill said. "Only he can." She looked at Lavender. "He's already trying. He needs understanding. He needs to be able to come clean to someone who won't judge him. Has he ever spoken of any of these things to you, my dear?"

Lavender looked about the room before shaking her head. "Never."

"Can't we just explain it to him?" Harry asked. "Ron used to be the best of all of us at seeing implications and strategies. He's not so far gone that he's incapable of reason, surely."

"Oh, no, no, no," said Sybill. "That would call disaster down upon you all. Ronald is very fragile at the moment, as are Hermione and Severus. He has been caught up in the trap of the Soul Bond all these years, but he has the added weight of the life debt. He may look and act stable, but if you were to invoke the _knowing_, I foresee terrible things happening. You must give him time. He needs a chance to pull his own soul back. To find his own way." She looked at Lavender. "He seems to have chosen his new anchor. Give him time to find his new center."

"Well, that might be a bit of a problem, you see. We might not have a lot of time."

"Oh, but he must have it. He needs support and comfort. He needs to feel safe. It would be disastrous to rush that process."

"I understand that, and trust me, I think I can speak for all of us when I say if we could give him time to free his soul from this mess, we would give him all the time in the world. However there is another factor. A bit of a wild card, really." She canceled her glamours and charms.

"You are with child!" exclaimed Trelawney. At first, she seemed enchanted with the idea, but then her face clouded over. "Oh." She wrapped her shawls around herself as if to ward off a sudden chill. "Does the father know?" she asked.

"Yes. He only recently found out."

Trelawney bolted to her feet.

"Separate them! Get them away from each other! _Do not _tell your husband who the baby's father is! Oh gods! This is dark. Terrible indeed!" She scurried over to the door. Her words were drowned out by the scraping of chairs as everybody bolted from their seats. "How could I have not seen it? I saw such happiness in your future. Now all I see is tragedy!" She scuttled back towards Hermione and clasped one of her shaking hands with her spidery fingers. "Keep them away from each other, dear. Lives depend on it!"

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, she simply smiled and patted Hermione's cheek before turning and giving a dazed Lavender an affectionate hug. She left in clatter of beads and a flurry of silk.

Harry came and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and guided her back down into her chair. Ginny poured more tea and handed the two other women cups.

"We need to tell your family what's going on, Gin," Harry said. "I say the best place to start is for him to feel a little more unconditional love and acceptance first. If we can head any uproar off at the pass, that would help a lot."

"Good idea," she said. "We'll go to the Burrow after we're done here."

Lavender stared at the pale and shaking Hermione. "Is there any way to get that cuff off Snape a little sooner, Harry? If they complete the bond then everyone will be safe."

Harry nodded his head.

"I think I can get his release date moved up. I have been making headway in some circles on the basis of good behavior. His rescue of Hugo might play well towards that end. I'm going to talk to Sinistra. If I can get her backing, it would drive the idea home. She's desperate for good press these days. I don't have much sympathy for her, but I could promise a good deed down the road if it would serve our purpose."

Lavender nodded. "I think as long as Ron refrains from actively using the life debt, he shouldn't incur any more soul damage _if_ we can keep him from finding out. Is there a way to get him out of that castle?"

"What if we found him another job?" Ginny asked.

"How would his leaving affect Hermione's job? Harry asked.

"Oh please, Harry. As if my job is more important than this," snapped Hermione.

"I can talk to some of my friends in the game," said Ginny. "See what positions they have open in management. If we get him a new job, then maybe he would be free to spend more time with Lavender and have a chance to develop that?" Lavender gave her a surprised look. "Look, Lav, even Hermione noticed how much calmer he seemed after you two started seeing each other. At this point, crazy as it sounds, I don't have any problems with it."

Lavender just nodded at her and then darted another glance at Harry.

"I can look into jobs at the Ministry in the office of Rules and Regs. I don't think it would be up his alley, but he wouldn't have to travel as much, and he would have more free time that way as well," Harry said, giving Lavender a meaningful look. He followed it up with a brittle smile that turned into a grimace. Hermione winced.

"I can make him feel a little less under siege at home as well," Hermione added.

"That's not a good idea," said Lavender. "From what I read, if you are too nice to him, you risk reinforcing the bond he shares with you. If you are too nasty, you could provoke his instability. You're kind of stuck. And, as you said, you might not have the best judgment. I would try to be polite, but not warm. Maybe even try to just avoid him altogether. Sybill said he needs to disengage from you at his own pace."

Hermione had to fight a sudden surge of anger at being forced to listen to Lavender's advice. How could she trust this woman's motives?? She blinked several times until the feeling passed and then felt the hair on her neck stand up.

"I think you're right. I don't know if I can be trusted," she said. "What if I become irrational, too?"

"Try to hold it together, Mi," said Ginny. "You're not alone. We'll get through this."

"How much longer is Snape going to be in the hospital wing?" Harry asked Hermione.

"A week at the most. He wakes up tomorrow morning, but he'll be weak as a kitten."

"That will give me time to work on Kingsley. With any luck, we can get that damned cuff off him within two weeks, four at the outside. That still cuts down a month.

"If you see any sign at all of either one of them acting suspicious, let us know. We'll find a way to pull Ron out of there, even if I have to have Ginny hit Arthur with a bludger just so Ron can go rushing off to St. Mungo's."

"Alright," she answered. Ginny gave her a hug and then, after a quick pat on her belly, charmed her robes back.

Harry cleared his throat and asked, "Hermione, how much longer can you hide the pregnancy?"

"Well, as long as my charms don't fail, I suppose I could pull it off for another month before I start looking like I'm getting chubby."

"I can come by on the weekends and help re-charm your robes," Ginny offered.

"There's a shop in Knockturn Alley that sells charmed pendants that will hide a pregnancy," said Lavender, earning herself an appraising stare from everyone involved. "Not me, Parvati, and I will thank you to keep that to yourselves."

"If you give me directions, I will go look for one tomorrow," said Ginny. Lavender gave her a searching look.

"I could go with you," she said tentatively.

Ginny shared the same expression as she nodded her head in acceptance.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey checked her only patient over before heading out of the hospital wing in search of breakfast. She didn't see the small, second-year boy hiding behind the tapestry just outside the door.

When the sound of footsteps faded away, the boy slid out from his hiding place and searched the corridor. Assured that he was alone, he pushed the door open with a spell and then, checking the hallway one more time, he lifted off the ground and floated into the infirmary.

He made his way over to the bed slowly. He hadn't mastered the difference between height and speed yet. Actually, he hadn't mastered much more at all. As he came to a stop, still hovering eight inches above the floor, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small scrap of parchment and slipped it into the sleeping man's hand. The hand snapped closed around his fingers, and the man's other arm flew over and clamped onto his wrist. For a man that had spent the last eight days sleeping, he was _strong_.

Hugo, still whispering the incantation, was so frightened that he shouted it in his head and shot straight up into the air, dragging Mr. Snape into an upright, sitting position with both hands reaching over his head still clutching the boy's arm. The caretaker had to let go with one arm and grab onto the bed-frame with the other when the ferocious glare on his face scared Hugo even more. He turned upside down in the air until his feet were pointed towards the ceiling another ten feet above. His robes fell down… or up as the case may be. He struggled with his free hand to clear them out of the way and saw the caretaker starting to lift up off the bed.

"You do realize," Mr. Snape said in a roughened voice, "that adrenalin will only last so long, and I will eventually let go? Perhaps now would be a good time to stop screaming in your head, Mr. Weasley."

Hugo blinked several times and then forced himself to stop chanting the phrase at all.

"_Don't_--Oh, bollocks," said the caretaker just before the boy crashed down onto the bed and crushed him.

The two of them lay sprawled, clutching their skulls, having knocked them together rather soundly. Hugo let out a small groan.

"Are you alright, boy?" said Mr. Snape with a trace of concern and a large dollop of irritation.

"Yes, sir. Are you?"

"I'll live. I always do." He poked the boy in the ribs. "If you don't mind, I will thank you to get off me."

Hugo scrambled back off the bed and landed on the floor despite Mr. Snape's last minute grab at him. As soon as he hit, a chime sounded in the room.

"So that's why you were flying; Poppy changed her wards to the floor," the man mused. He fished around in his sheets until he found the scrap of parchment and opened it to read the message. His coal-black eyes darted back to Hugo who felt his face flame up red. "You floated in here to give me this?"

Hugo just nodded his head, and the man scowled even more.

"Why?"

"Pardon me?"

"Why would you bring me this?"

"I would have thought it was self-explanatory. I wanted you to know I wished you a speedy recovery." Now it was the boy's turn to act like he was talking to an imbecile. Mr. Snape looked at him with puzzlement. "It's what friends do," he said patiently.

"And we're _friends_ now, are we?"

"Yes, sir. You've saved me on a number of occasions, that it's apparently considered bad form to discuss, when there was no reason for you to do so. You're not really in a position of authority, and you're not family. I have given it a good amount of thought and decided that puts you squarely in the category of friend."

"And if I'm not in the mood for friends?"

"Oh, that makes no difference. I'm your friend now. You'll just have to deal with it. Sir."

"I would be interested in hearing these…thoughts you had," the man said as he shifted to a more comfortable position on the bed. He looked back at Hugo through his long fingers as he rubbed his head.

"Well, I figured you're not a teacher here, so you don't have to worry about the whole 'favoritism' thing anymore. And it's not like we'll be mates, hanging out after classes all the time. That would be daft. I mean, I realize you're a member of the staff and all that, but I figure you're just a regular bloke, see? And you have these wonderful things to teach me, and I can be your friend as well, you know? Someone who shows concern when you're not well." Hugo lifted a hand and gestured to the note still clutched in the caretaker's fingers. "It won't require any effort on your part, if that's your worry. Uncle Harry said people ask too much of you all the time."

Mr. Snape gave him a penetrating stare.

"Hugo, has it occurred to you that I am not just a 'regular bloke,' but a convicted felon finishing out his sentence with only a dozen more toilets to unclog before I can see the back of this place forever? I would think that would be a bit off-putting as far as friendship goes."

"No. Rose decided you're no weirder than the rest of our tribe, just old. And besides, Mum said you were convicted because you wanted to be."

"She told you this?"

"No, she screamed it at my dad one night while they were arguing. It was just before we met you, when you first showed up."

"Ah, yes. That would have been just before your little welcoming party. I remember you were trying to become part of the floor."

"Yes, well, you did bear a striking resemblance to an inferi in prison stripes, and besides, I was just a kid then. It was almost two years ago."

Hugo was again blessed to see the caretaker's smile. It was just a fast twitch of the lips, but a trace of merriment remained in the man's eyes.

He turned and plumped the pillows behind him before facing back and folding his hands in his lap.

"I will inform you that unless you want the school nurse to find you here, you have about thirty seconds to leave."

"Oh, of course. I'm glad to see you awake. I hope you are up and about soon. Would you like me to come visit you this afternoon? I could bring you a book."

"No."

"Oh, right. Well, then. Have a good day." Hugo turned to walk away.

"Hugo." The boy stopped and turned back. Mr. Snape was pinching the bridge of his nose, and his words came out clipped and annoyed-sounding. "There is a rather deep storeroom on the sixth floor with a very low ceiling. If you were to stand on a box and stretch, you could touch the ceiling. That way you could practice without worrying about gaining so much velocity that you do yourself an injury."

"Oh! Brilliant! Tha--"

"Out."

"Going."

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey scurried into the hospital wing with Professor Granger-Weasley hard on her heels.

She saw Snape's bed empty and stopped in her tracks.

"Blasted man! Some things never change!" she muttered.

"Where is he?" said Hermione behind her. "He needs to rest for at least a week! He shouldn't be up!"

Poppy just turned to the younger woman and gave her an exasperated look.

"If I had a sickle for every time I told that irritating man--"

The sound of a toilet flushing and a door opening off to the side interrupted her impending rant. Both women turned to see Snape making his way slowly across the room, back to his bed. He wore his hospital robe with his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He glanced at the women and paused for a moment before continuing on towards his bed. He sat down heavily, and Poppy hurried over to help him, almost getting trampled by Hermione in the process.

"If you don't mind," she snapped.

"My apologies," said the professor before she stepped back. "I'm just anxious to see how the healing went."

"Yes, and I'm anxious to see how the patient is," Poppy replied as she helped Snape lay back down and covered him with the blankets. "I'm afraid my priorities are a little higher than yours at the moment. You can wait for confirmation of your breakthrough. You already know it was a success." She summoned a tray that held a pitcher of water and a glass. "How do you feel?" she ask the man.

Now that she was looking at his face, she saw his expression. He looked tired, and drawn, but also…tense and wary. Poppy realized that in the week or so that he had been sleeping under her care, she had had plenty of time to adjust to her new understanding of the man. However, it was patently obvious he didn't know this and so treated her with the same, pained suspicion that had been on his face these last two years. She sighed. Now was not the time to dredge up the past. She simply patted his arm and handed him a glass of water. Pulling out her wand, she ran through her series of diagnostic spells. Everything checked out fine until she got to the last one. Frowning, she pushed the hair out of his eyes and found a lump on his forehead.

"Severus, did you fall out of bed?"

"Leave off," he said. "It's just a bruise."

"Your little walk to the loo was foolish. You could have been hurt far worse than just knocking your head. It will take several days for your strength to return. No, don't give me that look. This isn't a recovery from some misplaced Unforgivable this time, Severus. You were in a bad way. You have basically re-grown a heart. There have been rumors about Azkaban's wards. Although a good amount of the damage was recent, it was probably secondary damage from your exposure." The nurse busied herself twitching the sheets into place. "Had I thought to give you a check up when you first arrived, I would have noticed sooner. My apologies." She looked at him, and they both quickly looked away.

"You will sit here, and you will take whatever potions I give you. I assure you our Potions mistress is quite competent. Indeed, she is responsible for your new lease on life. Thanking her properly would be the gentlemanly thing to do."

His eyes slid over to Hermione.

"You have my eternal…gratitude, Professor."

The nurse noticed the Professor's face flush a brilliant red, probably at the unexpected grace of his acknowledgement. Poppy couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. The odd gleam in his eye didn't help. She shook her head, irritated at the man's penchant for being perverse. Just when she expected him to be an arse, he grew manners. When she expected manners, he was inexcusably rude, and only Snape could manage to pull off both at once.

"Right, enough of that. Your tests show you to be healthy and fully recovered. You will need several days for your own body to adjust to the changes, and we need to get you on solid food. I will order you some breakfast. Don't expect anything fancy, and don't give me a hard time. You will eat everything. Is that clear? Lean up."

She helped support his back with one arm and adjusted the bed to a more upright position. She picked up a pillow and plumped it, finding a scrap of parchment under it. As he settled back on the pillows, he saw the parchment in her hand and plucked it back with a casual swipe of his hand.

"I wasn't going to take it away. I was just going to place it with the others," she huffed.

"Others?" he asked.

"Yes, we've been keeping them in the drawer next to your bed. Your mystery well-wisher has left you one every day since you took ill. Do you know who it is?"

He looked at the drawer, and Poppy pulled it open to show him the many little folded scraps of parchment.

"I haven't a clue," he said.

"Ah well, that mystery will have to wait for another day."

She stepped back and turned toward Hermione.

"I'll give you fifteen minutes to perform your tests, but then he needs to rest. I'll be back then with his tray."

Hermione nodded to her distractedly as she pulled out her notes.

Poppy turned back and looked at Snape, trying to say with her eyes what she couldn't say with words.

"We'll get you back on your feet as soon as possible, Severus. I remember well how much you dislike this bed. Call me if you need anything."

He looked at her for a long time before responding with a quiet, "Thank you, Poppy."

* * *

Thank you for your love and support! ff.n is playing havok with my reviews, so my apologies if some of you haven't recieved a reply. I'm getting some almost a week late. I will be trying to post at least one more chapter this week, but RL is getting ugly and I make no promises. sry.


	18. Etudes for Despair

AN:This chapter would not have been possible without the amazing work of my beta team. Many thanks.

**Not Mine. No Money.**

* * *

Hermione stepped forward until she was fully inside the curtain blocking the view to the rest of the room and cast a hasty _Muffliato_. She looked pale and nervous, but still presented a trim, professional demeanor. His eyes traveled to her narrow waist, and he wondered what she really looked like. He watched her as she fidgeted in the uncomfortable silence. He took small, but steady breaths, trying to keep his racing heartbeat under control.

"I know," she said quietly.

His hand came up and pressed against his chest, but all he felt was the galloping thud of a nervous man. He thought about telling her the truth and felt nothing. It was then that he understood.

"You know." He sagged back and closed his eyes, waiting for the hammer to fall. "I'm…sorry. I'm so very sorry Hermione."

"For what exactly? For having no choice but to help Ron? Or for taking advantage of the situation and getting yourself a quick shag? Did you _know_? Did you know about _us_?"

"It wasn't--No, I didn't know--It wasn't a quick shag. Oh, gods damn it!" He saw the hurt and anger in her manner, and it stabbed at him. He resented it. "Did you have a choice? Could you have stopped?"

"Yes. Perhaps. I don't know. There were moments when I thought I should. It didn't feel right. I think if I hadn't been so drunk, yes. I could have. At least it felt like there was still free will."

"Well that makes one of us. I've never been so irrational in my life as I was that night. Perhaps it was because you're Muggleborn. Perhaps you could have stopped after all. Perhaps you still can."

"No. There's no stopping now. The knowing changes things. I can feel it now. Like a physical thing. Spin me in a circle, and I will point to you blindfolded."

"I'm sorry," he whispered with his eyes closed.

"Sorry that we are meant to be together?"

He opened his eyes and gave her a pitying stare.

"We were never meant to be together, Hermione. I was meant to die in that shack. You could have been happy all these years. I have been your doom, don't you see? I'm the reason you and Weasley were never happy. I'm the reason that your children grew up with parents that shouted at each other over the dinner table. Hermione, we share a soul. Do you realize what that means for your children? I share an _affinity_ with them. Weasley has had to fight through that all this time as well. He can't _help_ but see me as an adversary. I kept him from fully loving, not just his wife, but his own children as well."

"No! No you didn't. Ron _adores_ Rose and Hugo! Sure, he says some daft things, and he struggles to understand them, but so do all parents!"

"Your son's a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. He had to beg the Sorting Hat not to shame his father. He's had to pretend he's something he's not for _years_ because he was afraid of losing his father's respect!"

"How the hell do you know that?"

He twisted around in the bed and snatched open the drawer. He grabbed up all the little Get Well notes and let them flutter back into the drawer. Picking one up, he opened it and held it in front of her face.

"Recognize the handwriting?"

"So, you think you're the only reason why Ron and Hugo have issues? Parents don't get a manual, Severus. It's trial and error all the way. Ron tries. Hugo could pop up speaking _Parseltongue_ tomorrow, and yes, Ron would have issues. But if you think it would make him love his son less--" She shook her head fiercely. "That's not the way it works."

Snape just gave her a long stare, his mind racing across years of painful memories.

"If that is what you believe," he said finally.

"Look," she said. "If your influence buffered his love for them, then that will just make it all the better when we fix this!"

"_Fix _this? How can this be fixed?"

"I haven't worked all the details out, but I will. I will find a way for everyone concerned to come out on the otherside side of this happy."

Snape snorted and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What details have you worked out?"

"Well, Harry and Ginny know everything, for starters. And Lavender as well. They're trying to help diffuse the pressure on all of us. I want you to promise me you won't do anything to harm Ron. That's important. I need you to swear."

He looked at her with surprise and then empathy. He reached out his hand and she came closer to the bed and clasped it in her own two smaller ones. The sensation brought an almost inhuman pleasure, and his magic started to batter furiously against its cage. He brought her hands to his chest and pressed them down, hard.

"Tell me you can feel it. Tell me you can sense my soul," he whispered.

He watched as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Yes," she replied.

He leaned forward and kissed her. His hands lifted up and caught her delicate face and gently tilted it as he kissed her deeply. She let out a slight, breathy moan as he pulled back. One hand dropped away from her face and caressed her belly.

"It feels so much more intense when you are you," she whispered.

"Yes," he replied, willing his eyes to see what his hands felt. "Is it--Can you tell me what the baby is?"

She gave him a watery smile and took his hand and shifted it to a spot low and off to the side. The illusion made it seem like his hand was pressed flat against her abdomen, but it was actually full of her ripe, curved belly.

"It's a boy. This is your son." She gave a wry laugh that was full of pain. "I think."

He felt almost dizzy from the feelings trying to overwhelm him. She shifted his fingers again and--_there!_--he felt it. Not a kick, like he had felt before Draco was born, but a long, slow, roll against his hand.

"My son," he said in awe.

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled an end. Hermione looked at him, dabbing away the tears in her eyes.

"So do I have your promise? Will you swear not to harm Ronald?"

He looked at her with a soft smile and gave her belly one last caress before withdrawing his hand.

"No."

Whatever she wanted to say next was interrupted by the school nurse. Hermione only had enough time to cancel her _Muffliato_.

"Well, Severus. Are you ready to eat something?"

"Indeed, I am."

"Professor, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. He needs to eat, and then we need to get a little physio in before he sleeps again."

Snape managed to avoid her eyes until she took her leave. As Poppy prattled on, settling his tray of broth and bread in his lap, he thought about just how foolish his siren was if she thought he would willingly swear an oath _not _to protect her and his son. Clearly, she was starting to show signs of the mind-clouding influence of a half-finished bond. Muggleborn or not, no one would be spared now.

* * *

The hex bounced off of Ron's shield, and he fired back a quick Jelly-Legs Jinx. His opponent swung to the side and deflected it with a minimum of effort. Again he had to throw up a hasty shield to deflect a Stinging Hex, and again he watched his daughter deflect his riposte with only the barest of movement.

His stomach growled.

"Okay, that's it," he said. "It's almost time for dinner."

"But, _Dad! _Can't we go a little longer?"

"I think you're dueling skills are fine, Kitten. You're better than even your Uncle Harry was at your age. I don't understand what the issue is," he said pushing her toward the door.

"I just feel limited. I don't feel like I'm stretching myself," she replied, picking up her backpack.

"Well, you're pretty good, Love. Has Professor Knodgrass complained about your skills? She told me she thought you were rather exceptional."

They headed out of the empty classroom and started on their way towards the Great Hall.

"It's not that, I just want to do _more_. Can I have a pass for the Restricted Section?"

"Not bloody likely. The idea of you researching better spells for dueling gives me the willies. And don't bother asking your mother. I'll be talking to her at dinner."

He watched his daughter's expression fall.

"Look, I can ask your Uncle Harry to come and duel with you. How about that? We'll see if he has any free time. I admit my dueling skills are a bit rusty. Maybe we can all practice. I'd feel better about him as your opponent. I'm too afraid I'd hurt you. Throwing hexes at your own daughter is just unnatural. If you're serious about wanting to be an Auror, he's the one you need to talk to."

"Thanks, Dad. That would be brilliant." She hugged him, and he smiled down at her and hugged her back.

"You know, when we were your age, your mother and I were going to be Aurors too, along with Harry. I feel a bit like you're taking up where I left off."

"You did? Really? Why didn't you?"

Ron's memories started to gather.

"Well, the war, basically. It's one thing to duel, Kitten. It's another to fight for your life. After the battle, things felt a lot different. Fighting bad guys and being a force for good is important. But, many things are important. You have to stay flexible, you know? Don't box yourself into a corner. Look at me. I left Auror training to go play Quidditch and then became a teacher. I think I might want to try my hand at something else soon. What do you think?"

"Like what?"

"Well, I had an offer from a team to do a little assistant coaching. And another old mate made mention of his work in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They need someone to help with the International Quidditch Rules and Regs. I've been giving it some thought. Not that I've made up my mind or anything. I was just using it as an example of how you should keep your options open. I'll be proud to have my daughter be an Auror, but I'll be proud if you're not, as well. Understand what I'm saying?"

His daughter smiled at him.

"Sure, Dad." She thought for a minute and then continued, "I think if I don't make Auror, I'd like to study Defense."

"What, you mean like the Dark Arts? You're mental if you think I'd let you do that."

"What do you mean?"

"No child of mine is going to study the Dark Arts."

"I didn't say I would be studying Dark Arts. I said I wanted to study Defense _Against_ Dark Arts."

"What for? Huh? What's the point? All the Death Eaters are gone. Locked up where they belong and good riddance."

"Dad, that's ridiculous. That's like saying we don't need Aurors anymore because everyone knows better than to commit a crime." Ron heard his wife's voice coming from his daughter's mouth. The overly patient tone used when talking to the especially dim. He had to admit it sounded a lot cuter coming from his daughter.

"Look, I know I sound a bit mental, but I'm telling you, I really don't like the idea." He stopped and put his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "It just feels wrong for some reason, okay? The Dark Arts are nothing to mess with. We'll talk more about it, but for now why don't you concentrate on your school work. You have plenty of time to decide what you want to do. Who knows what you might end up doing?"

She nodded her head, but he could tell she wasn't done. He knew when they spoke about it next, she would have a parchment full of her reasons and rationalizations.

"So what made you start looking for other jobs?" she asked. "More money?"

Ron looked at her, wondering what the strange gleam in her eye meant.

"I didn't actually. Ginny said she ran into a few people this week and gave them my name. I hadn't really thought about it before I started to get owls. I think this might be my last year teaching. But don't worry. Whatever I chose, I'll make sure I stay close to you and Hugo. No more running off with a team for months at a time. Just don't let the Headmistress hear about that."

"Staying close would be really great, Dad. I could see you getting back into the Quidditch world. I don't know about working for the Ministry though. You're pants at staying behind a desk." She gifted him with an impish smile, and he pretended to be offended.

As they reached the doors to the Great Hall, they came upon a crowd of students laughing and screaming and a frazzled Head Boy trying to get them to settle down. Ron looked over their heads and saw a fourth-year, Crispen Mathersby, vomiting up rainbow-striped foam.

"Oi, what's going on here?" he called out. Teddy Lupin looked at him with relief.

"Uncle George strikes again," Teddy said, vanishing the latest mess. "Crispin thought it would be a lark to eat the whole bag. I think I saw his shoelaces come out just now."

"Right then. C'mon, Mathersby. Time to go see the school nurse. The rest of you louts go eat your dinner, if any of you can stand the sight of food." He gave Rose a quick squeeze and then Vanished the new mess before taking the fourth-year by the shoulder and steering him towards the stairs.

It took a while to make the trip, what with having to stop and clean the floor every six feet. Mathersby continually bestowed grateful looks, but otherwise was too miserable to communicate. Ron did his best to keep him cheerful. He had his own memories of vomiting up slugs and knew that the boy would hardly be in the mood for lectures or too much humor. As they approached the hospital wing, Ron felt a weight starting to press down on him. It was barely noticeable at first, but when he pushed open the door and called out for the nurse, he was heavy with a feeling of dread.

"What's happened? Good gracious! Is that _foam_?"

Ron did his best to explain the situation, but his words were confused, and his thoughts were scrambled. He stepped back and allowed Poppy Pomfrey room to work as he tried to fend off the sudden feeling of danger. He glanced around, and a movement caught his eye. Turning, he looked across the room behind him and saw Snape reading a journal. He was sitting in a chair with his legs propped up on the bed next to him. Ron frowned at him, filled with a familiar loathing. He saw the man was wearing that ridiculous jumper his wife had knitted for him and clenched his jaw in anger.

"What's he doing here?" he said in a quiet voice to Poppy.

"Snape? He's recovering. I'm surprised your wife didn't tell you. He took her experimental potion. A complete success. He still needs a few days before I let him out of here, but then he'll be good as new. You should be quite proud of her."

"Who?" he said.

"Hermione. She's done something truly remarkable. She's an amazing theorist."

Ron just grunted, keeping his body aimed at Snape. He didn't feel comfortable with his back turned towards the man. When he looked again, Snape was staring at him over the top of the slim book. Ron felt his heart start to slam around in his chest as they locked eyes. Snape displayed the slightest sneer and then went back to his book. Ron knew he was supposed to feel like he'd been dismissed, but was well aware he had the other man's complete attention. It was as if he could feel his intensity.

"Mr. Mathersby will be here for the rest of the night, Mr. Weasley. You might as well go and get your dinner now." The nurse turned to the student. "I want you to thank your teacher for bring--" Poppy's words cut off as Ron closed the door behind him. He stomped down the hallway towards the Great Hall, but switched his direction at the last minute and headed for his quarters. He was too full of anger at his wife and her ridiculous penchant for hopeless cases to be able to sit next to her in public.

* * *

Hermione entered her quarters and dumped her satchel on the small table by the door. She desperately needed to get off her feet, but in order to do that, she had to drop all that marking off first. Then she could catch her breath.

"Hello, Mione. I hear you've been up to things behind my back."

She whipped her head up and was startled to see an extremely angry Ron standing right in front of her with his fists planted on his hips.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped in feigned irritation as she picked up her bag of papers again.

"I'm talking about Snape!" She felt a chill drizzle down her spine. She looked into his eyes and felt she was dealing with a dangerous man. She pulled the satchel in front of her and closed her arms around it

"What about him?"

"Why did I have to hear about you trying your potion out on him from Poppy? Why the secrets?"

She gave him a look of honest confusion.

"You told me you didn't want to hear about him anymore. I didn't tell you because you asked me not to. It was no secret. Sinistra signed off on it." She decided the best offense was a good defense. "Seriously Ron, I was trying to be respectful of your wishes. You knew he'd had a heart attack. It doesn't take a genius to put that together with the fact that I'd just completed a potion for heart damage. But if you want to get into a discussion about keeping secrets, then let's go! Now's a good time. I'm tired, and I don't feel well, and now I'm angry. There couldn't possibly be a better moment. You...go…_first._" She watched in satisfaction as the blood drained from his face. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before turning and stomping off to his room and slamming the door closed.

Hermione stood there, afraid to even sag in relief in case he came back out. The feeling of danger hadn't passed, and she looked longingly at the door to her room before deciding to leave and come back after he'd gone to sleep. She fumbled with the satchel before turning and stumbling out the door.

Out in the hall she let out a small yelp when she was grabbed. Her surprise was swiftly replaced by the now familiar feeling of completeness.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

She found herself looking up into a pair of worried, coal-black eyes.

"I'm fine," she hissed in a quiet voice. "And no, he was just angry for some reason. What are you doing out of the hospital? You need to get back there right now. You're not to be released for another two days!"

He scowled at her and waved his hand dismissively before pulling her in to his chest. He gave her a gentle squeeze before pushing her away, slowly.

"Where are you going?" he asked. She shrugged.

"To go do marking in my office, I guess. I really was looking forward to a lie down, but I don't want to stay here right now with him in a mood."

He nodded and pulled her away from the door.

"Go to my rooms," he said. "You can rest there. There are extra candles on the shelf inside the door if you need them." He gave her a little prod, and she felt a small despair at being pushed away. "Go," he ordered.

A niggling fear caught at her.

"What are you going to do?"

He frowned at her.

"I'm not going to do anything once I know you are safe. Go rest, Granger." He gave her another push, and she turned and headed away from her quarters, still clutching her bag of essays and tests like a shield.

*

Snape watched her until she disappeared from sight. Once she was gone, he turned back toward the portrait door with narrowed eyes before stepping back away from the torchlight and blending into the darkness, taking up his position in the shadows.

*

Hermione stood clutching her satchel just inside the doorway of the little room. A wave of her wand had lit the candle in the niche by the bed, and she lifted up on her toes and saw a box of candles on the shelf as well.

"Winky?"

The elf appeared.

"Yes, Mistress? How can Winky help you?"

"Winky, can you go to my room and bring me the two brass candlesticks on the top shelf of my wardrobe? And while you are there, could you tell me who is in or near my rooms?"

"Yes, Mistress!"

Hermione looked around, feeling like an intruder. Her eyes fell on the furniture she had taken from Ron, and she grimaced, pained by her own vindictiveness. She moved to set her bag down on the table, but recoiled from a furious Argus Filch raging silently at her from a makeshift photograph. That dreadful Mrs. Norris was hissing as well. She backed away and dragged the stool over to the small desk.

She sat stiffly, still clutching her bag, and was startled when the elf popped back in.

"Here you are, Mistress! I brought you what you wanted! Your husband is in his room walking back and forth and talking to himself. Winky startled him," she said, contritely. Hermione sighed and felt some of the tension start to leave her. "Your other husband is outside your rooms guarding the door."

Hermione felt every tiny hair on her body begin to crawl around. She dropped the bag to the floor and reached out and took the candlesticks with as much gracious thanks as she could muster. Settling them down on the desk, she took the little elf's hands in both of hers.

"Winky, it would be very dangerous for Ronald to find out Severus is also my husband. He must not know until he's ready." Winky's ears folded back, and she started to quiver. "Do you understand?"

"Oh yes, Mistress. Elves understand Soul Magic. We knows. You can trust Winky." She pulled her hands away and patted Hermione, first on the hands and then on her belly. "Souls are very strong. It's the minds that are fragile. Tea helps. Would Mistress like some tea?" Hermione blinked at this rapid shift.

"Yes, I think that would help a lot."

Winky smiled and with a little half skip she popped out of the room.

Hermione took a deep breath and stood up to grab two candles out of the box. She shoved them into the candleholders and lit them, leaving one on the desk and placing the other on the table. Giving the room more light made it feel less desolate. Next she cast several warming spells, trying to cut the chill. Satisfied, she turned and started to rummage through her bag for clean parchment, her quills, and some ink. Winky returned with a pot of tea and some small cakes for which Hermione was effusive with her thanks.

The elf popped away again, leaving Hermione to her writing.

*

_Dear Harry, Ginny and Lavender,_

_I'm making a copy of this for each of you, because I think it's important that we all stay on the same page. Something happened tonight, although I do not understand what. I will tell you all of the facts as I see them, and let you all decide if I am overreacting or perhaps, failing to react enough. I feel like my mind is clouded, and I am writing to you based on how nervous and frightened I am, rather than what my mind is telling me is not that big a deal…_

*

Hermione finished her letter, copied it onto another parchment with an increasingly rare first flick of her wand, and then stuffed them into her bag to be mailed in the morning. She pulled out her grading and set to work with a sigh. She kicked off her shoes, but quickly put them back on again when the cold stones set her bones to ache.

She was almost finished when the door opened quickly. She jumped up and spun around, aiming her wand at the door. She lowered it when she saw Severus's wry smirk.

"It didn't occur to me to knock on my own door. My apologies," he said.

"Not necessary," she replied. "I shouldn't have been so jumpy."

"We both know that's a lie, Granger," he replied.

She sank back down onto the stool. He looked around the room, walking over and slapping Filch and his damned cat face down onto the table before turning to her.

"I meant for you to get some rest," he said with a gesture towards his bed.

"I didn't want to presume."

"Not even of me?"

"Especially of you."

He stared at her, and she squirmed under his scrutiny.

"Your husband is asleep. If you wish to return to your rooms, you can now."

She gathered her things and bent to stuff them into her bag.

"Or you can stay," he said softly.

She looked up at him, and she knew he could see her thoughts on her face. How she was torn between longing and fear. Right and wrong.

"Just to sleep, if that is all you want. I want to give you whatever you want, Hermione," he said, his voice cracking on her name.

She rose from the stool and stared at him, knowing if she were to walk over to him, if he were to touch her, she would allow anything. Accept anything. Forgive anything.

"Just to sleep," she said.

He smiled, but it was more like a grimace of pain, and nodded before leaning toward the small bed and pulling down the blanket and sheet. He arranged the pillows and then straightened up and held a hand out to her.

She couldn't help the tremor of fear that rippled through her just before she set her hand into his.

He pulled her close and pushed her gently down on the bed, following her down until she was seated on the edge, and he was kneeling at her feet. He lifted one of her feet and pulled off her shoe and her thick, knee-length sock with brisk efficiency before setting it down on his thigh and repeating his actions with the other one. He grabbed the blankets and pulled them up before scooping her feet up with one arm and allowing her to pivot around and slide them under. He stood up and pulled the blankets up to her chin, stroking a hand reverently across her brow and back into her hair. He turned toward the table and pulled off his jumper. He folded it and placed it down and then unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the iron cuff and the long, thin knife he had slipped between the cuff and his skin. He removed it and laid it on the table as well.

She watched with tears rolling down her cheeks as he blew out first one, and then another, and then the third candle. She felt the bed dip and listened to him pull off his boots and socks.

"How did you know Ron was asleep?" she asked, as she felt him lift the covers and slide in beside her. The feeling of completeness was there. The feeling of finally being where she had belonged her entire life.

"I went and checked," he answered with a deep, resonant murmur in her ear.

"You were in his room?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes as his arms came around her and pulled her back in against him. Her head rested on his bicep, while his other arm cradled her belly, his hand stroking over the curves.

"Will it feel like this even if you kill him? Will I lay here feeling this sense of finally being whole?"

"Yes," he replied.

She started to cry, sad even through the interference of the incomplete bond.

"I don't want him to die, Severus."

"I know, Love."

"I don't want you to die."

"I know, Love."

"Can't you promise me? Can't you swear?"

"No, Love. Better him than you."

"If you kill him, will I start to hate you once the bond is complete? Once we can think clearly?"

"That is my belief," he answered. He curled his body around her, both protecting and seeking. "I will do everything in my power not to bring you pain, Hermione. I never want to have to ask your forgiveness again."

They stayed wrapped around each other for the rest of the night. Even after their breathing evened out, and they slipped away onto dreams, they clung to each other. His long, narrow fingers were never far from the child rolling actively under his touch.

* * *

The school doors swung open on a frosty November afternoon and Harry Potter, Head of the Auror Department, entered the school. He responded with his usual warmth to the students that recognized him, but no one missed the somber air about the man and their usual enthusiasm waned. He made his way up the stairs to the Headmistress' office in good time.

*

"Look at it from an outsider's point of view," Harry said, his voice barely concealing his obvious frustration. "You already acted, unaware of the extent of the problem. Spin it as part of your innate good nature. Add to it the fact that the man put his own life in danger to help a student. He's done his job well. Have there been any complaints that were based on his work and not his personality?"

"Well, no. I have to admit my weekly reports to the Ministry have been a tedious waste of time from the beginning. He does his job well enough," said Sinistra with reluctance. "Look, why don't you speak to Madam Pomfrey? She seems to have recently changed her opinion of the man. Perhaps her words could persuade the Minister. I don't think it would be wise for me to get involved."

"It would have to be you," Harry pressed. "Who else besides the Minister himself has ever carried as much weight in our world than the Head of Hogwarts? Your opinion carries weight, Aurora. If you doubt that, use this as a test. Give me one letter of recommendation and see how the wheels start turning. The ultimate decision is Kingsley's. There is minimal actual risk to you." He saw her wavering and played his last card. "I would be very grateful if you were to write that letter, Aurora. I would even go so far as to say I would be in your debt."

He watched as Sinistra's eyes lit up, already calculating how much access she would have with the great Harry Potter's clout to throw around.

"You will have your letter, Harry. Indeed, I will have Pomfrey write one as well. I will enclose every single tedious report they made me write and choke them with how mundane the man really is. I will make them look stupid for holding a grudge against a feeble, broken man. You will get your early release. I will see to it."

Harry rose out of his chair as the Headmistress stood, and when she had come around from her desk and shook his hand, he felt a mixture of elation and dread. How many insipid conversations and mind-numbing events would it take to pay for Snape's freedom?

"I thank you, Headmistress, for your time and effort. And now, I must go and see the gentleman himself."

"To tell him about the school's effort on his behalf?" Harry blinked, amazed at how quickly she had rearranged her thoughts on the matter.

"No, I have some unfortunate news for him. If you don't mind, I'll take my leave."

"Not at all. I would look for him in his quarters. Poppy told me he's signed himself out already. Frankly, I'm amazed he stayed as long as he did. In the old days, trying to keep that man in the hospital was like trying to hold back the tide with a tea cup."

"Thank you. I'll go there now. Good day." Harry barely waited long enough for her to return the sentiment before he was out the door and pounding down the stairs.

He made his way through the castle and stopped outside Snape's room and knocked. After a few minutes, he looked around and then pulled a folded parchment from the pocket of his robes.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said wryly. When the parchment revealed all its details, he turned and leaned against the wall while scanning it. He found Hermione in her classroom, surrounded by little footprints, two of them identified as Luna's twin boys. First-year Potions was in session. He looked and found Ron, pacing like a caged tiger in his office. Free period. Outside Ron's office, about ten feet down the hall, he found Snape's footprints. Standing perfectly still. Harry felt his hair stand up and took off.

He found him standing in a shadowed niche. Two of the magical torches on the wall had gone out. If he hadn't been looking at the map, he would have walked right by him.

"Mr. Snape, it's good to see you up and about," he said. "I was very upset when I heard about your heart attack." His pleasant tone belied the fact that his Auror instincts were on full alert. "I'm glad I found you. I have some news. I hoped you might join me down in the kitchens for a bit of tea and privacy."

Harry waited as Snape's eyes left the door to Ron's office, as his head turned to finally acknowledge him. He could tell the man wanted to say no.

"Hermione is in class," Harry whispered. "He can hardly get to her there. Give me this time, Severus. Please."

Snape stepped out of the alcove.

"As you wish."

They made their way to the kitchens in silence. Harry kept his eye on the map and watched as Ron's restless pacing subsided. Ron's footprints fell still right in front of his desk. So he had finally sat down.

They made their way into the kitchen and sat at the table. An elf brought them tea and biscuits, and Harry experienced a poignant sense of déjà vu as he watched the man set about the ritual of preparing his cup.

He held the map up. "You realize it's your proximity that is making him unstable."

"It's his instability that forces me to keep my proximity."

"Can't you reason past it? Is it that overpowering?"

Snape looked at him with no expression.

"Potter, you more than anyone understand what my life has been like. Do you really think me capable of ignoring the threat to a woman who returns my regard? Who shares my soul? Who carries my child?"

"When you stalk him, you make him crazier. _You_ are putting her in danger."

"No. He's almost aware. She is in danger anyway. It was her _knowing_. Her own acceptance of the Soul Bond, and all that it entails. He can feel it, and it is destroying his reason. If you value your friend's life, Potter, get him out of this castle. Keep him out. I have one month, two weeks and five days left before we can end this. Hermione is already slipping. What she sees and what she wants are tearing her apart. Get him _out_ of here."

"I will see what can be done. As for you, things are in motion to affect an early release. With luck, I can have you out of here as early as two weeks from now, maybe even sooner. Can you _try_ not to get sent back to Azkaban before then? A little of your old self-preservation would not be amiss here." Harry dragged his hands through his hair, making it stand straight up again. "Self-sacrifice is dreadfully romantic, but the Hermione I know just might turn you into an inferi and make your rotting corpse dance a jig in the middle of Hogsmeade for all eternity. She has a vindictive streak, you know."

The quick twitch of the lips and the spark of mirth in the man's eye weren't missed, and Harry returned a wry grin of his own.

"If that is all Potter?" Snape said, shoving his chair back from the table. Harry's smile dropped away, and he reached out a hand and grabbed the other man's arm.

"No, that was not the only reason for my visit."

Snape looked at Harry and something in his expression must have given him a clue, because he settled back down and his face became even paler.

"Narcissa Malfoy died yesterday afternoon. Lucius killed himself three hours later. I'm sorry." Harry had been expecting some measure of grief on the other man's part, but there wasn't a trace of emotion. It would have been easy to assume the man didn't care if not for his eyes. It wasn't that they held a clue to what Snape was feeling, it was that he wasn't actually looking at Harry. When speaking with Snape, one dealt with the discomfort of a gaze that was too direct. Snape always seemed to tear your thoughts from your mind almost out of habit. But, just like that day in his office almost two years ago, Snape wouldn't quite meet Harry's gaze.

"How?"

"The Ministry has become aware of the fact that the wards they implemented at Azkaban to replace the Dementors have a detrimental effect on some prisoners and some of the staff as well."

"Organ failure," said Snape. Harry was surprised, but only for a moment.

"Is that what caused the damage to your heart?"

"Azkaban's wards only had a minimal effect on me. The rest was caused by my fighting the influence of the life debt. Had I rolled over and accepted my fate, I would have been fine."

"Then how did you know it was Organ Failure?"

"The Ministry only ever sees what it wants to see. The prisoners have always known. Some are worse than others because of the harmonics in the wards. Different magical signatures will respond in different ways. Those prisoners whose magic is close to the same--let's use the Muggle term 'frequency'--have been living in an extra torment all this time." He looked down at the table and spun his teacup in slow circles. "How did Lucius die?"

"He tore off the sleeve off his prison robes and ate it. He choked to death."

"Bastard always did like to show off. Several of us tried that only to find the remnants of a survival instinct at the last second."

Harry recoiled from the sentiment and the implications. He found himself reaching out to touch Snape's wrist, but the man pulled his arm away and took a sip of his tea. Harry swallowed several times before he could trust his voice.

"There will be a full investigation. The wards will be changed and every prisoner will be given a full health exam. Not that there's a lot they can do. The report said the damage to Mrs. Malfoy was extensive and beyond repair."

"Granger could have saved her," Snape spit out. "She could probably still save some of the others, although Draco was the only one who didn't deserve to be there."

"Speaking of Draco, I need to find him. I want to tell him in person. I think he deserves that at least. Do you know how I can find him? He left Britain after his release seven years ago, and no one ever saw him again. I was hoping, perhaps, you might be able to steer me in the right direction."

Snape looked at him for a long time.

"I won't tell you where he is. It's a secret-kept location--"

"Who is the secret keeper? Perhaps I could persuade them to let me--Oh, my apologies, sir, please go on."

"_I_ am the secret keeper."

"But surely, you would want him to know!"

Harry could see the anger spread over the other man's face.

"And once you found him, once you tell him he's an orphan, what then, Potter? You write it up in a report and file it?"

Harry backed away.

"No, this isn't official. Just something I feel I ought to do."

Snape looked at him, confused.

"Why? You always hated Draco."

"Because I was there that night, remember? I saw his anguish, Snape. I know he was incapable of following through on his orders. I know he didn't deserve his sentence." Harry ran a shaking hand down his face. "Because being the famous Harry Potter hasn't meant fuck all when it comes to being able to do what's _right_ in this damned world. My first success is getting Sinistra to write a letter recommending you for early release, and I've damned myself to uncounted nights dressed like a fool and schmoozing whomever she demands even for that. My _word_ wasn't enough."

Snape stared at him for a long, silent moment before his expression softened slightly. "You really are your mother's son," he said quietly. Harry jerked back as if slapped. His thoughts spun madly, filled with a lifetime's worth of unanswered questions. He struggled to pay attention as Snape continued. "Draco will already know. Wards on his house and the family vault will have fallen with their deaths. I fear he will not be far behind them. He's dying. His ten years of exposure to the wards did enough damage that he has been suffering a slow, agonizing decline these seven years. I am admitting to a violation of my parole. I was to have no contact with any Death Eaters while here. However, he is my godson, and I am now his only family. I will write him a letter and give it to you to send. It will arrive where his house elves will find it. Will you do that for me? Will you allow him to hear it in my words?"

"Yes," said Harry, pulling off his glasses and swiping at his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

* * *

Draco Malfoy, Maison Lunardra, Bois du Rouquan, Fr.,4th of November.

_My Dearest Draco,_

_It is with both a heavy heart and a lighter soul that I write to you, my boy. It is your parents, Draco. They are finally free…_

_*_

_*_

* * *

*

*

A witty comment seems wrong at the moment. So I'll just quietly hand out these Prozac samples to all the people who review.


	19. Bonfire

**AN:** Special thank you to **Hebe GB** for editing and sending this to me up where I am hip-deep in family crisis. Any errors are completely my own and not the fault of overworked betas. I just needed something to occupy my brain and so...

**Not mine. No money.**

* * *

Molly Weasley scrubbed furiously at the clean pot in her sink. Arthur hovered nearby drying a pan with a tea towel. It could have been dried with a flick of a wand, and indeed, even using Muggle methods, had actually been dry four minutes earlier. The sound of the front door opening and another group of pounding feet running through the house made them both jump.

"Grandma! Grandpa!"

"Rose! How is my Rosie today! And Hugo! Good heavens! You must have grown a foot! But you look like you haven't eaten in weeks! The tribe is all down by the orchard; go find your cousins while your old Grandma makes some lunch." Hugo and Rose gave their grandparents effusive hugs before tearing out the door. Molly busied herself with putting together some food, while Arthur finally used magic to finish the rest of the dishes.

"Hello, Mum, Dad." She turned as her youngest son entered the room and gave him a slightly too bright smile.

"Hello, Ronald dear, so glad you all could make it." She gave him a tight hug and a quick kiss before turning away.

"Hermione couldn't come; she's caught up in work at the school."

Molly turned back towards him and waved off his obvious worry.

"That's fine, I really wasn't expecting her. She's always busy with her research these days. As long as my boy is here. And the children, of course. We've had quite the turn out. Neville and Hannah are here with their kids and even a few other people from your school days. Luna ran into Terry Boot and told him and he's here with his Padma, who told Lavender Brown. She sent an owl asking if she could tag along since she's heard of these celebrations but never seen one. Not that I have either. More's the merrier, I say. She's a lovely girl. And that nice Oliver Wood is here as well, your Dad mentioned our get-together to him at work and he's brought his wife and kids. They brought Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan, who are finally getting married, did you know? Anyway, Hermione is missing out, but we have more than enough people to make up for her absence."

She saw a glint of something--Gratitude? Longing?--in her son's face and had to turn away and chop onions. He cleared his throat.

"So Dad, Guy Fawkes? Seriously?"

"Well, Angelina gave me the idea. I think it's a marvelously odd holiday and thought it was as good an excuse as any to get the family together. Small Fred and Roxanne have been helping me with the fireworks. We thought we would try for Muggle ones to add to the experience."

"You realize 'Small' Fred is going to be bigger than 'Big' Fred soon, don't you?"

"Yes, well, it's hard to break a habit. As I was saying, the kids are gathering wood for the bonfire and arguing whether or not to burn their guy. There are so many strange customs; we want to try and do as many as we can."

"Well, now that I'm here, is there anything I can do to help?"

Molly turned around at this unusual offer, even as adults, her sons were as elusive as ever when it came to chores.

"I think we have it under control. Most of the cooking is done; the stew has a little longer to go. We're going to bake potatoes in the fire as well. I'm just making a quick bite to eat for lunch."

"Are you alright Mum?"

Molly flapped a towel at her son.

"I'm fine, it's the onions, I forgot my charm in the excitement, is all. Go on, go out and have fun."

"I think Harry is starting up a game of grown-ups only Triple Bludger," said Arthur.

"Really?" said Ron. "Wicked." Molly saw his face settle into an expression of childish glee she hadn't seen in years. He pulled out the broom he always carried in a pocket and enlarged it with a tap of his wand. He hurried out the door and they could hear him calling out his greeting as he raced across the yard. Molly and Arthur both moved closer to the window and looked up in the air where Ginny, George and Angelina all circled like birds-of-prey. Each of them held a bludger.

"Oh, Arthur, I can't watch."

"Don't then dear," he said turning her face towards him. "I'll watch for you."

"Are we doing the right thing?"

"Now, Molly. You have to pull yourself together. If he finds out it's all a set up it will ruin everything. It's for his own good."

* * *

"I tell you, I've never seen a man in so much pain laugh so hard! Grandma was angry at Uncle Ron for thinking it was funny. But if he's the one in pain, isn't he entitled to laugh if he wants to?"

Snape caught these strange words as he passed by the courtyard. He turned and saw George Weasley's daughter talking to several of her cousins. Curious, he paused to listen.

"All of them were laughing," said Lily Potter, Harry's daughter. "Except Terry Boot, he was just in pain. But I think if his team had won he might have been less inclined to be angry that he's going to miss a few days from work."

"I think it was barbaric." This from Victoire Weasley. "I mean, they were like children. Only, _worse_. How many people got hurt in that game? And everyone knows Uncle Ron has a bad back! It's shocking! Grand-mère was right to ban it from now on. The party, oui, make burning guys a tradition, but this ridiculous Triple Bludger? Non. That was stupid. Uncle Ron won't be able to work for at least a week they say, and Aunt Angelina has broken her wand hand. Mr. Boot shattered a kneecap. And you saw Uncle Harry almost fly into that tree once his glasses were broken!"

"Oh, that's nothing. Dad breaks his glasses all the time."

"Yes, well, I still think it was a disgusting display."

"You would. All I can say is my Dad hasn't had that much fun in years. And I think it's cool that Aunt Ginny is taking over Dad's job for a week or so," said Rose Weasley.

Snape smiled and walked away.

"Well done, Potter," he said to the air.

* * *

Arthur Weasley entered his son's room in St. Mungo's, startling both Ron and Miss Lavender Brown. Ron's surprise was only visible from the widening of his eyes. His body was held in a modified full body bind to allow his back to heal.

Arthur forced himself not to show his disappointment at seeing his son's mistress.

"Hello, Ron, Miss Brown. How are you feeling, son?"

"Hello, Dad. I actually don't feel anything from the neck down, so I can't really complain. Lavender's mother is here for an appointment, so she stopped by."

"Oh? I hope everything is alright with your mother?" Arthur said turning a concerned eye on Lavender.

"Well, yes and no, Mr. Weasley. My mother suffers from dementia. A seizure left her with brain damage. She's been like this for a few years now, there's no hope for improvement. But weekly treatments have helped stave off the worst."

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. You have my sympathy."

Lavender smiled and thanked him, before making her excuses and taking her leave. Arthur watched the woman as she walked out the door and then turned to his son.

He had thought about just pretending he didn't know, pretending he didn't see, and just going on with the visit. But one look in his son's eyes changed that.

"So," Arthur said. He pulled a chair closer and sat down heavily.

"I'm sorry, Dad," said Ron. Arthur stood back up and grabbed a tissue to wipe his son's tears.

"I love you, Ron. I can't say I'm proud of what you've done. But I'm not in your shoes. I think only a fool would be completely surprised. Has Hermione been by since she left here Saturday evening?"

"She stopped by with Rose and Hugo yesterday. I don't expect to see them again until the weekend. I don't want them missing class time. I got a couple of owls though. Lavender read me their letters." Ron's eyes were filled with a tremendous sadness.

"You have to understand, Dad. I tried. I tried for so many years. She just wouldn't love me back."

*

Later when he'd had time to think about it, he told his wife that cradling his Ron's head while his heart finally broke was the second worst thing he'd experienced as a father since the death of Fred. Being unable to explain that it wasn't anyone's fault made him feel like an accomplice to a terrible crime. Listening to his son confess to fathering a child with a woman he didn't care about had been like a stake to the heart. Having to pretend he hadn't already known had made him want to scream.

If he hadn't had a long talk with Hermione, Saturday evening, he might have broken. If his daughter-in-law hadn't done such a thorough job explaining what it felt like to know she was slowly going mad, he might not have understood the stakes for what they were. If he hadn't had to hold her as she cried out her apology for unknowingly getting pregnant with another man's child, he wouldn't have known he had the fortitude. Watching her play at an irritated impatience, finding that balance between being there for her husband, but not caring enough to make a difference, had been dreadful. Seeing her completely lose her composure as soon as she left the room had been wretched.

Arthur lay in bed with Molly a familiar bundle of blankets tucked into his side. He sent a small prayer to whoever was out there to listen, and to spare the lives of everyone involved.

* * *

Professor H. Granger-Weasley

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

8th November.

Dear Hermione,

It is with the greatest pleasure that I inform you of the complete and total success of your potion. It performed perfectly under every circumstance it was applied to.

I do hope you feel justly proud of yourself; your breakthrough will change lives. Indeed, in more ways than one. I have taken the liberty of starting your patent work. If you will look over the enclosed, we can make a start on mass producing your potion and assuring that you receive your due royalties for every batch.

It is also my great pleasure and honor to extend to you an offer of employment. Please consider this. I understand you enjoy teaching young minds; however, the level of work you produce saves lives. I am confident that there are other breakthroughs in the area of targeted healing potions in your future and I consider it my duty to urge you towards a future immersed in Theory rather than Academics.

Let me know your answer as soon as possible. We can meet at your convenience to discuss, terms, position and your assistant staffing.

Again, my congratulations. I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Vibius Chatsworth

Head of the Department of Medicinal Brewing

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London.

* * *

Hermione sat primly in her sitting room, furiously knitting a new cardigan for Molly. It was now a years' long tradition and a bit of an inside joke between the two women. For all her years of knitting jumpers for her extended brood, it wasn't until Molly had taught Hermione the craft that anyone had ever made one for her. But, she knew in her heart that this year's would be the last. Next year she would be someone else's woman. And Ron would have someone else as a wife.

This weekend had been a revelation for Hermione. Seeing the lengths her in-laws were willing to go to. She had been shocked and dismayed at the results of their plan. Why would they have done that? Whose idiot plan had that been? Seeing Ron laid up in hospital again had dredged up old memories of fear she had forgotten about. Bedside vigils while the healers worked to try and give him even a fighting chance of walking again. How had she forgotten that? How had she let the memories of hours spent holding his hand and putting on a brave face slip away as insignificant. Her guilt had been clawing at her ever since.

She had done this. It was her fault he was lying there. If she had never married him he would be free right now. If she'd had the common sense of a Puffskein, she would have seen they were no match. What they had been was best friends. What they had been through had made it seem like more. But surely, on some level, she should have seen there was another, or at least seen that there should have been more. Her maudlin thoughts tore away at her sense of self. She felt as if she was drowning and that grabbing the lifebelt would shame her.

She had avoided Severus for five days now. She knew just being near him would bring a sense of peace and it made her feel unclean. She'd been too ashamed of herself to even look at him whenever she saw his long legs from the corner of her eye. She never lifted her eyes higher than the floor anymore.

The door to her bedroom opened and Ginny came out.

"Merlin, I had forgotten just how wonderful unlimited hot water is. I might never move back home. Do you think I could talk Harry into retiring from the Ministry and taking up the Defense post?"

"Not unless you and your family take a bludger to Sinistra."

Ginny stopped squeezing her head with the towel and gave her a quizzical stare.

"That was in poor taste. And just what the hell are you doing to that yarn? Knitting or choking it to death? Are you alright, Mi?"

"No," she answered, stuffing her knitting back into the basket. "No, I'm not. I feel like I'm just marking time before some massive explosion overtakes us all."

"Hermione," said Ginny, walking over and kneeling at her feet. "It's going to be okay now. Kingsley agreed to present Snape's case to the Wizengamot. By this time next week, he could be a free man. Once you get that cuff off of him, everyone will be free. It's almost over."

"Yes, everything is almost over. My marriage is almost over. You've almost finished being my sister and Molly's almost finished being my mother. I have this new life ahead of me. I have this wonderful letter from St. Mungo's asking me to start my new career! I get to explain to my children why I'm carrying another man's baby! Why Mummy married a Death Eater! It's all coming up roses now isn't it? Everything is just going to be perfect, won't it? But no one asked _me! _What if I don't want to be someone else's Soul Mate? What if I don't _want _to be a Snape? Not that he's even asked me, I'm just making assumptions there as well, aren't I? I'll have you know, I _enjoyed _being a Weasley!"

Ginny cut her off by throwing her arms around her.

"Oh, Hermione. I will never stop being your sister. Will I make room in my heart for Ron's new woman? Yes. Will that crowd you out? Don't be silly. It's apples and oranges. Everyone will have to adjust. Some will do it more slowly than others. But you will still be a part of this crazy tribe. We'll all get through this. You'll be free of Ron soon and everyone will be okay."

"But why am I supposed to be happy about that?" Hermione snapped shoving Ginny away and launching herself out of the chair. "Why was it so damned wrong to have wanted to be happy with Ron? Was it just too much to ask for? He's a good man! A good father! What was so wrong with me that I couldn't be a good wife!"

Ginny looked at her and narrowed her eyes.

"Hermione, listen to me. This is your bond with Ron fighting for survival. Let it go, Mi."

"Why? So I can be justified when I crawl off and rut with another man?" Hermione shuddered, suddenly repulsed by the very idea. "I love Ron," she said in a small voice.

"Of course you do, but not this way. It wasn't meant to be. This isn't healthy. Let it go, Hermione." She walked closer but Hermione scrambled away. "You can't hold onto it, Mi, it's driving you mad. Don't you see?"

"You're his sister! Why are you trying to push me away? I thought we were family!"

"We are family, and right now you need to calm down. Calm down and let's talk about family. Come sit on the couch."

Hermione stared at the couch, wondering at its significance. She blinked several times, trying to see clearly. Tiny dots swam in the corners of her vision. She tried to take calming breaths but it felt like a weight was pressing down on her. She felt cold and sweaty, and her heart was beating too fast. The room seemed to spin and there suddenly wasn't enough air. She looked at Ginny, beseeching her for help when she didn't understand what that help could be.

"Ginny," she gasped out. "I can't let it go. It won't let me go!"

Ginny rushed over and pulled her into her arms which both comforted and constricted. She tried to accept the embrace but found herself pushing her away instead. She was getting lightheaded from hyperventilating and stretched out her hand towards the couch. Ginny grabbed her arm and tried to lead her to it, putting her other arm around her back to support her. There was a muffled shout and Ginny turned. Hermione tried to turn as well but her legs seemed to turn to jelly and she felt herself start to collapse. Ginny cried out as she struggled to hold her weight, but before they both hit the floor, Hermione felt herself grabbed by a stronger set of arms. Her stomach swooped as she was swiftly lifted up and she blacked out.

*

Ginny panted for breath. She was sprawled on the floor of the sitting room, dressed only in her belted bathrobe, and staring up at the panic-stricken face of Severus Snape.

"What happened?" he demanded, as he cradled Hermione to his chest. She looked like such a small and delicate thing in his arms.

"Her bond with Ron. It's stronger than we thought. It's tearing her in two. She tried to fight it, but I think she lost." Ginny scrambled to a stand, trying to keep her decorum.

"Help me get her to her bed," he snapped. Her eyebrows went up at his tone but the naked fear on his face kept her from commenting.

She led the way back into Hermione's room and tugged down the blankets. Snape laid her down and pulled off shoes and socks before taking the blankets from her and pulling them up to Hermione's chin.

"Do you have your wand? Can you do a diagnostic spell?"

Ginny didn't bother replying, she just cast the spell and they both looked at the glowing runes. She ran through several spells until she was sure everything was alright.

"Tell me everything," he said in a gentler tone. He had visibly calmed at each successful test and sagged onto the bed when the last showed the baby was fine.

Ginny explained about the sadness that had been building since they had removed Ron from the scene. How she had been watching Hermione slide into despair over the last week. She told him about the letter from St. Mungo's and how Hermione hadn't even seemed to care about it. She told him of her own despair watching her, and her increasingly frantic attempts to distract the woman. She only seemed able to snap out of it when her children were near or when she was teaching.

"I found her sitting there tonight with a look on her face akin to rage, even though her words sounded simply sad. To me, it looked a lot like an anxiety attack. I told her to let it go, she said she couldn't. Then she started to shake apart. I'm really grateful you showed up when you did, I think all I was going to be able to do was keep her head from smacking on the floor. She's a lot heavier than she looks."

Snape just graced her with an expression she hadn't seen since she was a student.

"That's because she doesn't look nearly six months pregnant," he said. Ginny blushed and dragged her hand through her still-wet hair.

"I knew that. It's just the adrenalin, I'm not stupid."

He nodded and began fussing with the blankets. Ginny was struck by how strange it was to see him so tender. She would have bet her entire Gringotts account he didn't know the concept before all of this happened. Life had surely taken a turn for the twisted.

"She has more of her _self_ committed to Ron than we thought, doesn't she? If it's this bad for her, it'll be worse for Ron, won't it?" she asked. She saw him stiffen, saw his hands clench into fists.

He looked at Hermione for a long time before answering.

"I cannot say. Hermione has spent the week isolated from everyone but you and her children perhaps that fed the memories. When he is here, it strengthens the reality." He rubbed at his eyes. "Ronald tried to let it go six months ago. He has been trying to regain his own soul. I think being with his family, being cared for, will strengthen his independence."

"True, but that's not exactly the same as spending all that time with Lavender building new bonds, is it? She's been by the house twice. But Mom says it's for just a short visit each time and it was pretty uncomfortable for everyone. Maybe now that he's up and moving, he can go and see her?"

"That would be…advisable," Snape replied. "Anything to help strengthen his self would be beneficial. But I fear it will all be for naught if this lasts much longer. This has to end soon. I can feel it myself. Have your family watch for whatever symptoms you saw in Hermione this week before she had this episode. Have them send you a _Patronus_ if they see anything at all."

"I will," she replied.

He jerked his head towards the sleeping woman. "Did she eat a decent meal at dinner?"

"Yes, she only put a bit of food on her plate, but she was so distracted she didn't notice I kept replacing it."

"Well done," he said. Ginny felt herself glow under his praise and realized it was the first time she had ever heard him give any, aside from his Slytherins.

"I will watch over her tonight," he said, standing up from the bed and pulling a chair closer. "You should get some rest, Mrs. Potter."

"Ginny," she said. "I would like you to call me Ginny."

He looked at her and gave her a slow nod. "Severus."

She smiled.

"We only have to make it through one more week at the most. Then everything will be alright, you'll see. Good night, Severus."

"I hope you are right. Sleep well, Ginevra."

* * *

Lying in a bed lit only by the moonlight of the window, Severus felt Hermione stir in his arms. He felt the echo of her sudden joy and closed his eyes briefly in relief, squeezing her gently.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"Happy," she answered. "Confused, but content."

His hand slid along from her belly to her hip and up along her side and back again.

"What happened to me?" she asked.

"Your feelings for your husband. It seems there is a stronger bond between you than we anticipated. It was not completely unexpected. You two struggled to stay together despite your circumstances. That should have warned us. Your marriage coming to an end is going to kick up a lot of emotional pain, in cases such as this it takes on an almost tangible existence."

"Yes. I suppose it will. I don't feel it now. I don't feel anything for him at all."

"That's because our bond is incomplete and I am right here. You will remember your feelings for him when I leave you again. After we are united, it won't be so cut and dried. You won't suffer for still caring about him." He hugged her close, his heart filling with her words.

"Don't leave me then. I don't want to feel anything but this." She snuggled back against him and felt the arousal he had been steadfastly ignoring for the last thirty minutes. She rubbed herself against it.

He hissed in a breath and rubbed his face in her hair, pushing his hips up against her.

"Hermione, we are not ourselves. I don't think this is what you really want."

She twisted around until she was facing him and took his face in both her hands.

"It feels like something I want very much." She kissed him and the quietest of groans escaped him. He kissed her back with a tender passion that grew to an all-consuming need. He wrenched his face away from her. "You felt I took advantage of you before. I should leave. This isn't what you really want. Not yet."

She pushed him onto his back; he couldn't resist at all.

"Perhaps I just need to even the score. Maybe I should take advantage of you." She rose up over him and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Oh, gods," he groaned. His last struggle for sanity evaporated at the touch of her fingers against his chest. "Yes. Please," he begged.

She made short work of stripping him out of his shirt and ran her hands across his narrow chest.

"You are beautiful," she said, "You look like you're made of porcelain. Sculpted by a Master Craftsman." She ran her hands across the hard planes of his body and he sucked in a hard breath at the sensations. "I don't recall ever wanting a man as much as now." Her hands slid down his body and she caressed his hardness through the cloth of his trousers. He cried out and jumped. She let out a low chuckle. His every twitch and shudder seemed to increase her desire. It was so much more than he remembered perhaps because it was really him this time. She went still and pulled away. A frustrated whine escaped his throat and as he sat up quickly and reached for her, he fought the urge to grab her and throw her down to the bed.

"Will my magic leave me again? Will that harm the baby?"

"No!" he practically shouted, then managed to pitch his voice to a more soothing tone. "It wouldn't harm our child. And it shouldn't happen again if we aren't…synchronized. It's unnecessary anyway. Once the cuff is removed it will happen on its own. We are already attuned." His hands started to tug at the buttons on her robes. "Let me see you. I have longed to really see you." She lifted up her hands and removed a small locket from her neck. His eyes widened as the charm dissolved and he saw her swollen belly for the first time. She sat back and started to undo the buttons at her wrists, and he scrambled up onto his knees and started to work frantically at the rest. Finally she lifted up on her knees and pulled her robes up over her head. He gasped.

"Oh, my siren," he whispered, as they faced each other. "You are even more beautiful than I saw in my dreams." He reached out and skimmed his fingers across her belly and down to her full hips. He gazed at her adoringly, reverently, as she shivered under his touch. His hands came up and molded themselves around her breasts, before flicking the front catch on her bra and releasing them.

"Gently, they're tender." she said, as she shrugged out of her bra.

"I know," he said, as he leaned in and skimmed little kisses across the tops of her swollen breasts. He did know; he'd been sneaking into her office when she left off the wards and reading the books on pregnancy she'd hidden in his old desk. The threat of turpentine had silenced that damned portrait. He shifted his legs to either side of her and moved closer as he sat back on his heels and worshiped her breasts with his mouth. His hands slid around and played with the curves of her arse. Her panted breaths were like water to a man dying in the desert.

She grabbed him by the hair and tugged and he rose up until he was looking into her beautiful eyes.

"Kiss me," she requested.

"Yes," he replied.

Their kiss was a frantic, demanding needy thing. His growls and groans matched her own. His hands danced around her body caressing every curve and producing an incredulous amount of pleasure for them both.

"Will this go away when we bond?" she asked without taking her mouth away from his lips.

"No. This is for life."

"How will we ever get anything done once we can be together always?"

"I don't know, the very idea seems ludicrous. Right now I want to spend all of my days fucking you until you scream." His hands caressed her belly and continued down until they slipped into her folds. She gasped and ground herself against him. He growled to find her so receptive, so ready for him. He moved until he was behind her, never stopping his dancing, flicking fingers. He brought her down until she was sitting on his thighs with his arousal pressing into the small of her back. His lips danced across her shoulder to her neck and she dropped her head back and sighed when he sucked her earlobe between his teeth. He could feel her thighs flex and twitch against his. When he slipped his fingers inside, she squirmed. Frustrated mewling noises escaped her.

"Severus, I need _you_," she cried.

"Oh, gods…my love. I need you too. But I won't last this time. Let me pleasure you first."

"No. I need you now."

"Oh, _fuck yes_," he growled. He pushed her off his lap and as she crawled toward the pillows he grabbed her and bit her on her arse, before licking the bite mark and placing a kiss on it for good measure. She collapsed on her side and only just managed to roll onto her back. He lifted up onto his knees before her, nudging her legs apart and slowly undid his belt, toying with her. Frustrating her curiosity. He slowly shoved down his trousers and pants and when she finally saw all of him her eyes went half closed and her mouth fell slightly open, in the same expression he had seen in the storeroom. He had seen it again many times in his mind. He reached out a finger and traced her lips and she sucked it into her mouth, causing him to almost convulse with pleasure.

She was so incredibly beautiful, displayed before him in all her naked glory. He kneeled over her and stroked her skin before slipping two long fingers inside. She gasped when he found that place inside her that had only been found once before.

"What _is_ that?" she panted.

"That? That is mine. That is something that has been waiting for only me." He pumped his fingers into her, stroking that same spot and settled back on his heels. His other hand stroked over her body before he brought his thumb down and began to swirl it around on her nub. Her climax hit so suddenly it surprised him. She didn't even make a sound, just sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow exhale while her inner walls pulsed around his fingers.

Severus shifted position quickly and slid inside while she was still quivering. _Then_ she made noise. He groaned as she keened her pleasure. He started to thrust into her in earnest and felt himself transported to a higher plain. As pleasurable as their touches had been before, as profound as his feelings of completeness were before, this feeling transcended them. Finally joining with his siren, in his true body, took on a metaphysical aura.

True to his prediction, it wasn't long before he started to babble. Incoherent words filled in the spaces between 'love' and 'fuck'. Hermione reached up and cupped her hand against his cheek, her thumb swiping a tear he didn't know he had shed. His eyes slid open and he was awed by the sheer amount of emotion she could convey with a look.

"I love you Severus,"

"Oh, my Hermione, my soul," he panted. "I love you. I need you. I need this…_unghh_…" He threw his head back and with a deep, throaty growl he came. The force of his release was so intense that he feared he would collapse on her belly. He barely had enough brain cells to remember that was bad before shoving himself to the side. He landed heavily on the bed, trapping her leg under him.

He gasped for breath as she pulled her leg free and slid across the sheets and curled herself into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her with uncoordinated clumsiness.

"That was perfect," she said. "You're perfect." She let out a contented sigh and he smiled. "And soon everything will change and our lives will be perfect." He nuzzled her neck, lost in the moment. This perfect moment with his mate. "And if things don't change soon, you'll just have to kill him. I don't want to wait for it to be just us, my love."

The smile froze on his face and he opened his eyes and found himself looking into the happy, contented face of a Hermione that was not _there_ anymore. Fear clamped onto his belly and he pulled her close, wondering if he was all that far behind.

* * *

Ginny woke up to the sound of someone continually knocking on the bedroom door. She scrabbled around until she found her wand and cast a quick _Lumos_. She fumbled out of bed, shoving her arms into the sleeves of her robes while calling out "Who's there?"

"It's Snape!" came the muffled reply.

She belted her robe over her flannel pajamas and shoved her feet into her slippers before opening the door to join him in the sitting room. She was startled when a frantic Snape shoved her backwards, farther into the small room.

"Hey, what--"

He slapped a hand over her mouth. "When I let go of you, I want you to cast a silencing charm. Do you understand?" She nodded and he let go, he stepped back and took a deep breath, but didn't look any calmer. He was disheveled and highly animated, which was alarming enough. She cast the _Muffliato_ and waited for an explanation.

"Tell Potter is has to be soon," he said, pacing in a small circle. "She won't last. I don't know why, but she's losing it fast. There's nothing in between anymore. She's fading!"

"Hold on! Back up. What are you saying? What do you mean there's nothing in between?" After watching Hermione slide into a moment of madness, Ginny was more than a little concerned to be trapped in a confined space with an obviously irrational Severus Snape.

"Her own _self_, her individuality! It's fading! She's going mad! She's either completely Weasley's or she's completely mine. She's not her_self_! You _must_ tell Potter to hurry! We're running out of time!" He stopped suddenly and grabbed her arms. She brought her wand up and poked him in the side, ready to cast. He didn't even notice. "If it's accelerating for her, it must be for your brother as well. They're in terrible danger." His eyes seemed to snap into focus and he looked down at where her wand was digging into his stomach. He stepped back, releasing his hold on her. "Perhaps it's me. Maybe I'm the one that's losing my mind." He looked at her and she saw incredible sadness pass over his face. He squared his shoulders and lifted his head looking down at her with something close to his former bearing. "Ginevra, I need your husband to hurry." He backed away to the door, looking unsure of himself and somehow slightly broken. Ginny just nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I'm leaving. I don't think I should stay here any longer. I don't think it's healthy for her to be near me for too long. Will you check on her when I am gone?"

"Of course, Severus. I will watch over her." She rushed towards him and placed a hand on his arm. "It will be alright, Severus. Hold on just a little longer."

He looked down at her hand for a moment, before placing his hand over hers briefly, nodding and turning away. She watched him until he had slipped out into the hallway and the door had closed behind him.

She stood in the sitting room and stared at her friend's bedroom door for a long moment before turning towards the window and casting her _Patronus_.

If she was going to sit up all night worried, then Harry could to.

* * *

Dear Dad,

I hope you are better today, Aunt Ginny said you are moving about a lot more. I did really well on my Arithmancy test. Professor Vector complimented my work. I got in trouble though. I fell asleep in History of Magic and Gryffindor lost twenty points. I miss you. Get well soon.

Love,

Rose.

* * *

Dear Dad,

Rose and I got the Honeydukes Chocolate you sent yesterday. Thank you. It was really great. We shared it with the tribe. Everyone misses you. I think I have a tree for us to find when you come back. It was great to hear you can Apparate again. Maybe you can come to the school next week and help me find that tree.

I miss you and hope you get well soon.

Hugo

* * *

Dear Dad,

I miss you. The tribe wants more chocolate but I don't think you should send it. You just sent some two days ago and they act like it's been a year. And besides, this weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. They can get their own. And also, James is getting on my nerves. He asked to study my notes and then lost them. Now I have to borrow Roxanne's notes, and you know she's kind of lazy as far as that goes. They had pumpkin pastries at lunch today. I have a bunch saved in a napkin for you. Remind me I put them in my sock drawer. Mum's not feeling well. She told us she was just run down, but I think it's more than that. She's kind of worn out. I'm glad you are almost all better. I think she needs you.

I wish you were here,

Love,

Rose

* * *

Dear Dad,

I'm glad you said you were feeling much better because I want you to come back. Mum doesn't look good. She's really pale and seems kind of out of it all the time. I think she's really sick. I see Aunt Ginny giving her worried looks too. I know you guys didn't want to tell us for some reason, but I figured it out a while ago and Rose agrees, so I'm just going to go ahead and say it: I'm afraid whatever is wrong with her has to do with the baby and you should come back as soon as possible. It's not supposed to be good when you get sick during pregnancy, right? But since it's a big secret, she hasn't gone to Madam Pomfrey.

You should come and talk to her. Rose and I are really worried.

Hugo

*

*

* * *

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**Next up:** Things go 'boom'...*bwuahahaha!*

Reviews are most welcome and regular updates should begin again in a few days. Review replies will be delayed until I get regular access to a comp.


	20. Free Fall

**AN:** Boom.

* * *

Harry danced in place in the waiting area of the Minister of Magic's office. The office manager glared at him several times but he ignored him. Finally a chime sounded and Harry started for the door even before the toady could get out from behind his desk. He opened the door and hurried inside.

"Did they do it?" he asked, as soon as the door closed behind him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was still shutting the door to his private access corridor and gave Harry an annoyed look. He sighed and held up his hand. Harry saw the order of release and nearly collapsed.

"It wasn't unanimous, I will tell you that," the Minister said in his deep, slow voice. He walked over to his desk and filled a glass from a pitcher of water. He handed the release order to Harry and gestured toward another glass.

"No, thank you, sir," replied Harry to the unspoken offer. "If it's all the same, I'll just take this and head to Hogwarts."

"Not so fast, Harry," said Kingsley. He sat heavily in his chair and took a long sip of the glass before saying anything more. "You said you traded some good press coverage for Aurora's help. I just ate up a lot of political leverage as well. I think we all need to get something out of this. Some positive spin would help all of us, you, me, Sinistra and especially Snape. If we can prod public opinion the way we need, then he might find it easier to start over in the community."

"Kingsley, Snape's the last person to care about public opinion, believe me. I think it would be better to just go and quietly free him."

"And I disagree." Harry's shoulders sagged as he realized he couldn't prevent what would happen next. "Look, Harry, this needs to be open and as public as possible. Everyone knows you have been trying to free Severus all along. If you scurry off and release him quietly, how will that look if something untoward _does_ happen in the future? If we play this out in the public eye then everyone involved will absorb the blame."

"There won't be any blame. Snape was never a threat to anyone but himself and the Dark Lord. I can guarantee that once he's freed you will never see his name in the papers again. Well, once the publicity from his early release dies down."

Kingsley just waited for him to finish speaking; it was obvious the words were having no effect.

"Are you done? Good. I want you and an escort of Aurors to meet me in the Atrium in forty-five minutes. From there we will meet up with the press and head to Hogwarts. I will contact Sinistra personally; it will look like your first favor and cut down on your own groveling. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go. And Harry, when this is all over, you're going to tell me the whole story."

Harry winced and nodded.

"The Minister won't like the whole story. Besides, you'll have to ask my wife's permission first."

"Then tell Kingsley over some firewhiskey later tonight, after we meet for dinner with your wife."

"It's a date," Harry shot back with a wry smile.

* * *

"Ron? Lavender's here!" Molly called up the stairs. Lavender and Molly stared at each other in awkward silence. Tea had already been offered and politely refused. The health of Mrs. Brown had been confirmed to be the same as ever. Molly's newest apron had been complimented for being colorful. And still no sign of Ron.

With a pained and slightly embarrassed shrug, Molly headed up the stairs.

"Make yourself comfortable, dear. Maybe he fell asleep; I'll just pop up to his room and see what's keeping him."

Lavender Brown sat down with a quiet grace and folded her legs at the ankles as she looked around the sitting room with honest curiosity. The room might have been empty apart from her, but it was teeming with the memories of busy, happy lives and a close family. Lavender took a deep breath and relaxed. A cautious smile played about her lips. A room like this made one feel happy, despite the type of day they'd had.

Lavender's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mrs. Weasley's cry. Suddenly fearing the worst, Lavender jumped up and raced up the stairs into a maze.

"Is everything alright?" she called out. "Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly scurried out of an upstairs room and looked over the banister waving a sheet of crumpled parchment; her face was a mask of fear.

"He's gone! He knows! Oh Mother of Heaven, he's going after Severus!"

Lavender raced up the stairs until she reached the landing where Molly was standing, pale and shaking. One hand was clamped over her mouth and the other held out a letter. Lavender read it quickly and then turned and clutched Molly's arm.

"We have to warn Hermione!" Lavender turned and fired off a _Patronus_. She looked at Molly, suddenly paralyzed as to what to do next.

"Go!" shouted Molly. "You have to go to him!" Lavender gave the frightened woman a squeeze and raced down the stairs and out the front door.

* * *

Hugo was hurrying along the halls on his way to his Arithmancy class when he heard the hubbub in the crowded hallways reach a different pitch. Curious, he looked around to see what the excitement was, but with his shorter stature he couldn't see anything. He turned back and continued on, only to stop again when he heard his father's voice.

"Dad? Dad!" He wiggled through the crowd and threw his arms around his father. "I missed you! I'm so glad you're here! How are you feeling? Is your back--" Hugo's words faltered when he saw the look in his father's eyes. Something was wrong.

"Dad!" They both turned towards the sound of Rose's voice, but she didn't garner any more recognition than Hugo.

"Hey Dad," he said, with false excitement. "There's a new Whomping Willow sapling!" His father blinked a few times and scowled, like he did when you woke him up from a nap by accident.

"Hugo, I don't have time to go looking for trees right now. Do you know where your mother is? Or Snape?" Hugo felt a little better, knowing it was indeed his father. Obviously he was worried about their mother and couldn't say much in the crowded hallway.

"Mum has a free period, she's probably in her office right now," he answered.

"I saw Mr. Snape heading towards the Astronomy Tower," Rose offered.

Ron turned towards her. Hugo felt his hair stand up at the look in his eye, and even more so as they were left standing there as their father turned and walked off towards the Astronomy Tower without further word.

"Rose, go find Mum. Now."

"On it," she said, and then she was gone.

Hugo took off after his father, keeping a good amount of distance between them. One thing Hugo had always excelled at was going unnoticed. He made good use of it now, as classes started and the halls emptied.

* * *

Hermione sat at her desk trying to focus on the student essays in front of her. She usually had no trouble working on her grading. It seemed the only time she wasn't wrestling with the sodden miasma that was her brain was when she was grading or teaching, or the short moments she shared with her children. At the end of the day, when her duties were done, it would be like someone had blown out a candle and her mind would drift away again.

She remembered snippets of conversations with people, Ginny or the Headmistress, and had several blurry memories of quick moments with Severus. She could never quite remember their interactions, only the feeling of addictive neediness, and her frustration at his repeated admonitions to work on research or to go and spend time with her children. She had no mind for research, indeed, she was afraid soon she would have no mind at all. The idea of tinkering with Potions ingredients with her scattered wits was ludicrous. She would blow up the school in this state.

The fact that she was struggling with first-year essays filled her with dread. If she lost _this_, would she ever find her way back?

"Have you eaten?" asked Albus. The portraits took turns babysitting her and Dumbledore was on duty in Phineas' portrait.

"Yes. I assure you, I ate a good lunch not long ago."

"You look pale and unsettled, is something wrong?"

Hermione pushed the parchments away and sat back, indulging in a good belly rub. She had been loath to get into the habit, it was a dead give-away to any woman who'd ever had a child. She usually just hummed a tune and kept her hands at her sides until she was alone.

"I don't know what's wrong. I've had this feeling that something is going to go wrong for the last half hour or so and I can't seem to collect my thoughts. I fear it's getting worse, Albus."

"Nonsense, I'm sure it's just the baby. Have you given any thoughts to names yet?"

Hermione smiled and patted her belly. "No, I want to wait until this is over, I'm afraid I'll come up with something atrocious while my wits are scattered."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Well, if you need ideas, I have a few rather good ones. There's my Great-Uncle Cuthbert, I always rather liked his name. And then there's Murdoc, that's always a good--"

Just then a _Patronus_ slipped under the door. Hermione flinched at its brightness. It settled into the shape of a stag and Harry's voice filled the room.

"_He's free! We'll be there soon. Expect a circus, I couldn't avoid it."_

The silvery stag faded out and left Hermione blinking. A slow smile spread across her face and she found herself grinning at the twinkling Albus.

"I am very pleased for you both," he said. "What are you waiting for? Go find him!"

Hermione snatched at her desk before jumping up and running out of her office, not even bothering to close it behind her in her excitement. She dashed down the hall, attracting stares from students hurrying to class, using her inner compass to find Severus. She heard a shout and turned. Rose was running at her, barely avoiding her fellow students. Hermione was about to admonish her eldest but one look at her face stilled her voice. She reflexively opened her arms to her frightened daughter and Rose hurdled into her embrace, backing off immediately and staring down at her mother's stomach.

"Well, that's out of the bag," the girl said. Hermione was terrified and unprepared for this conversation. "Oh, Mum, we knew. Did you really think you and Dad could hide it from us?"

"You knew?" Hermione repeated.

"Yeah, and we know you've been sick lately, that's why we told Dad to come back. But he's acting really strange. Hugo sent me to come get you."

"You told--?" Hermione blinked several times. Before realizing she was standing in the middle of the hallway attracting the stares of curious students. Rose gasped and Hermione turned to see what she saw.

Another _Patronus_ was making its way swiftly towards her. It looked like a large poodle.

"Whose--?" Rose began to ask but just then it stopped in front of them and Lavender Brown's voice filled the hallway.

"_He knows, he's on his way there. You're in terrible danger! Please don't harm him!"_

"Who's in danger, Mum?" asked Rose.

Hermione swung around and grabbed her daughter by the shoulders.

"Did you hear the message? Good. I need you to run and find Aunt Ginny, Rose, give her the message. Wait! Where is your father now?"

"That's why I came for you. We thought he would come and see you, but he went after Mr. Snape in the Astronomy tower instead. He didn't look right."

"Rose, your father is cursed. Whatever happens next, remember it wasn't his fault! Get your Aunt; send her to the tower, now!"

Hermione watched her daughter tear off back the way she came before lifting up her skirts and running as fast as she could.

"Hurry Harry!" she cried. The clusters of students in the hallway started to buzz with gossip as they watched the Potions professor fly down the hall.

* * *

Severus Snape felt his doom stalking him. He had felt it the moment it was set into motion. He didn't know how the rock started to roll, but he had a good idea exactly when the mountain would come down. _Now_. It was in the school. He felt for the connection between them, this thread that tethered him to the other man's life, and continued to send his unchanging message: Come to _me_. _I_ am your fate.

Whatever it was that had pushed Weasley over the edge, Snape knew from the pang in his chest the moment it had happened. The life debt and the Soul Bond collided head on. He had collapsed to his knees from the pain of the conflict. The life debt struggled for dominance, to prevent him from doing harm, but in the arcane ranking of such things, the Soul Bond and the life of his mate and their child trumped all. He felt the madness creeping over him, the need to protect. To fight for what was his. If he gave in, the life debt would be smothered and he would feel no restraint at all. But he would lose more than he could bear if that happened. He struggled to remain his own man and at least die with honor. It wasn't fatalistic, it was realistic. In a wizarding duel, the odds were not even remotely in his favor. Not that he was without a few tricks up his sleeves. One of them was his wits, if he could keep them about him. If Weasley wasn't fully committed, a vain hope at best, he might be reasoned with. If he was beyond reason, he might be toyed with. The discomfort in his chest grew. It was akin to the struggles of a man hopelessly bound and gagged who still tries desperately for freedom. Snape heard the lower door to the tower bang open, and as he listened to the heavy tread march up the stairs, he turned and faced his doom.

* * *

Ronald Weasley burst out onto the top of the Astronomy Tower clutching his wand in fury. It _had_ to be him. He remembered the knitted jumpers, the doting concern; there was only one person it could be. He knew in his _bones_ he was right.

He took three steps out onto the tower, peering through and around the giant astrolabe for any sign of his nemesis. He was here, he could practically feel him. He took another cautious step forward and was violently kicked in the back and driven to his hands and knees by the sudden pain. A dragon hide boot nearly stamped down on his wand hand but he snatched it back at the last second and only received a bad bruise and some loss of skin. He rolled to the side and brought his wand up and blasted his attacker. Snape flew backwards and slammed up against the wall of the tower like a rag doll. Seeing him, Ron tasted bile. He raised his wand and kept it trained on the man as he regained his feet. Snape struggled to a stand as well, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

"You fucked my wife!" Ron screamed.

"I did the best I could, considering what I had to work with," taunted Snape, pressing against his chest with one hand.

"I should kill you!"

"Well, that _would_ get me out of the life debt you've tortured me with." Ron felt remorse, like an annoying itch trying to get his attention. He smothered it. "Really, Weasley, I should think it only fair, since you'd been with my _Soul Mate _for seventeen years." This confused him. He looked at Snape with not a little disgust.

"What the hell are you talking about? What Soul Mate?"

"I'm talking about a Soul Bond, the phenomenon of two people being born sharing the same soul. I'm talking about the bond I share with your _wife_."

"You can't share the same soul; yours is blacker than sin!"

"Yes, and hers is whiter than snow, isn't it? With small flecks of darkness scattered about, to balance my few, misplaced acts of altruism. It seems the soul we share had some things to work out in this life."

"How is that--Gods! You've been after her since she was a child, haven't you? You're disgusting!"

"Oh do get a hold of yourself. I was nothing of the sort. I assure you as a child she was nothing more than an irritating brat, with dreadful taste in friends." Snape was moving, constantly moving--first several feet to the left and then several paces to the right. Ron kept his wand trained on him and shifted to keep the man in front of him at all times while he listened. He felt his anger tempered by a need to know. As if the answers to everything that had gone wrong in his life were finally close.

"Then how? When was it activated?"

"When you saved me, Weasley," Snape said in a gentle, mesmerizing voice. "She was there. You sealed all our fates that day. Once the bond was sparked, there was no escape. She could never be happy with you and our bond has been working to push you away the entire time you've been together." Ron started to inadvertently nod his head as understanding shined a new light on the last seventeen years of his life.

"And then you showed up here. No wonder you made my flesh crawl whenever I saw you," he said.

"Indeed. I assure you; none of us understood what was going on that first year. I won't deny I was drawn to her when I arrived. I can tell you that it wasn't reciprocated."

"If what you say is true, that's not possible."

"Not possible for you, you're a Pureblood. Even as a Half-blood, it wasn't possible for me either."

"But she's Muggleborn."

"Precisely. She buried the instinctive pull of her own magic and turned me into yet another one of her damned projects. Justifying her interactions as part of her innate good nature. Then you went and threw us together the weekend of the ball. I assure you, she still didn't know."

"You didn't have to sleep with her, you bastard!"

"I couldn't have stopped myself even if it had occurred to me to try." Something shifted in the other man's eyes. Ron saw a look of possessiveness chase across his features before being subdued. He felt his rage reignite.

"No! She was _mine_! I loved her! I always fucking loved her!"

"She could never love you _back_, not once the bond became active, not as long as I still lived. Even with me sealed away in Azkaban, my soul would never allow her to accept you," he said, again in that crooning, understanding voice. Ron almost fell for it. But he remembered where he was and who he was dealing with. He jabbed his wand at Snape.

"I could remedy that right now."

"Yes, and killing me would fix everything. Don't be stupid, Weasley, you've lost her. You lost her years ago. Let it go and find another to love."

"And let you have her? I don't fucking think so, Snape."

"Weasley, think. This isn't you, you're not being rational. Since when would you duel an unarmed man?" Snape held his arms out to the sides to show his empty hands. "If you do this, I assure you, you will regret it more than you regret saving my life."

"I can't imagine anything I would regret more than that, I think the satisfaction of knowing I sent you to hell, where you should have been all these years, will balance it out nicely."

*

Snape saw his death in the man's eyes. He had done his best to meet his siren's needs, but now, his other options had been used up. The life debt tried to push to the fore and interfere, but only managed a stabbing pain, not the debilitating agony he'd known before. If Weasley murdered him, it would destroy the man's soul. There would be nothing left to stop him from going after Hermione and finishing her too in his madness.

Snape figured he was a dead man either way. If not in a moment, then at sunset tomorrow. Dementors no longer patrolled Azkaban. They were kept in the lower basement of the Ministry. As a convicted felon on parole, there would be no trial. She would be free either way.

He let the Soul Bond take control. He had maneuvered Weasley to the edge of the parapet, it would only take the element of surprise to freeze him for a moment before he could send him over the edge. He knew the man was too far gone to rationalize what he was seeing. He snapped his arms together, reaching into his sleeve as if for his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" the fool bellowed, reflexively.

Even as Snape was pushed backwards by the force of the spell, the long, thin knife flew out of his hand, needing only the merest snap of the wrist, a subtle flick of the fingers to aim it, as it was pulled towards its target almost faster than the eye could follow. Weasley's only reaction was a quizzical crease between his brows before the knife plunged into his shoulder, causing his wand to drop out of his numbed fingers.

"_NO! _Dad!" Snape spun around to see Hugo run out of the shadows and felt his blood go cold. He looked back at Weasley and saw the madness still in his eyes.

"Hugo! _DON'T!_" Snape bellowed. He made a grab for the boy but Hugo twisted away from his grasp.

The boy flung himself at his father but the man wasn't aware of him at all. His eyes were locked on Snape as he reached up with his left hand and pulled the dagger free without even a grunt of pain. Snape heard the sound of feet racing up the stairs behind him knowing from the bond who it was. Weasley flicked the knife and blood sprayed on the ground. He raised it menacingly. Quidditch Keepers learned to be agile with either hand. Snape wanted to scream. _Not in front of her! _But all that came out was a rasp.

"Not in front of the boy," he begged. Something in Weasley's mind caught on that sentiment and he flicked a glance at his son. He gentled for just a moment before Hermione burst out onto the top of the tower. His face infused with rage again and he lifted his arm to strike.

"No, Dad!" Hugo jumped up and grabbed his father's arm trying to pull it back down. Ron flung him off and shoved the boy behind him. Snape watched as the boy's arms started to pinwheel when the edge of the parapet caught him behind his calves. He lunged.

*

Ron slashed at Snape, who skittered to the side and didn't even stop as he punched him hard in his knife wound while his arm was extended. Ron grunted in excruciating pain and sagged back against one of the merlons as the air filled with screams. Hermione shrieked like she'd been hit with a Crucio and behind him, Hugo--Ron spun around in time to see his screaming son's hand slide out of Snape's now bloodied one. He dropped the knife and threw himself forward, his fingers only brushing a flap of robe as his son pitched off the top of the tower.

"_HUGO!" _he screamed.

"_Arresto Momentum_!" Hermione hurled the spell at the boy and Ron saw him slow down like he'd landed in treacle. Snape leaned out as far as possible and Ron grabbed onto the back of his cloak with his good arm and braced a leg against the crenulations. They gained another foot of reach but Hugo still drifted down and away, out of range. The Astronomy Tower was eleven stories up. Ron was sure Hugo would faint from his fear, his screams had been awful, but now he had gone silent, his face frozen in a rictus of terror. Snape was shouting something to his son but it was obvious Hugo was beyond any understanding

Ron fumbled in his pockets for his shrunken broom. He called his wand to him but it dropped from his grip. He picked it up with his other hand and tapped his broom, watching with relief as it expanded. He struggled to shake off the pain. His head swam and he could barely grip his broom. He shoved his now useless wand in his pocket and climbed on.

"I'm losing him!" Hermione screamed. Ron didn't understand. He looked and saw his son still descending gently, as if lowered by a rope. He launched the broom off the tower but struggled as the agony in his back nearly overwhelmed him and the broom zipped in the wrong direction. He wrestled with it, nearly blind from the pain of his injuries, as a confused blur of movement caught his attention. It took a moment to realize what he had actually seen.

Severus Snape dove off the Astronomy Tower, cloak and scarf flying out like crow's wings, and plunged toward Hugo. Ron's over-burdened mind finally understood the danger, just as his pregnant wife's magic failed and she screamed like her soul was being torn out. Ron screamed with her as he struggled to fly towards them.

* * *

Harry, his Aurors, the Minister of Magic and the press, had all Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts where they'd been greeted by Aurora Sinistra, the Headmistress.

"Welcome! A grand welcome to you all," she'd said, playing to the press. "I am honored to have you all present here to put an end to an ignoble episode in our school's history. Prices have been paid. Justice has been meted out. And if you look at his record--here, I have copies for everyone--the prisoner has been rehabilitated."

Harry had barely kept from rolling his eyes. That would've made a great photo for the front page. Sinistra had preened for the cameras, while taking questions from the press. Harry had looked past them all and had watched bemused as his niece, Rose, ran like a demon for the Quidditch pitch. She always ran everywhere she went. There had been another pop of Apparition behind them and Harry had reflexively looked over his shoulder.

Lavender Brown had come running up the path. Harry had taken one look at her face and had felt his heart skip a beat. _'He's knows' _she'd mouthed. _'He's here.' _He'd turned back to the circus and caught Kingsley's eye. He hadn't bothered to hide the panic on his face.

"Yes, well, let's go and find our reformed man, shall we?" the Minister had said, jovially, cutting off Sinistra mid-speech. He'd started to walk up the path towards the castle, pulling everyone with him by the sheer force of his will. He'd smiled and nodded to people as he'd reached out and planted a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder, dragging him close.

"This is about to go tits up, isn't it?"

"I sincerely hope not, sir."

"What are our chances of a good outcome?"

Just then they'd all heard a shout. The group had stopped, and had seen a student pointing at the top of the Astronomy Tower where they'd barely made out what had looked like a struggle going on.

"Not good at all," Harry had shot back as he'd started to run.

The air had rung out with a piercing shriek and a student had started to fall from the tower. A student with ginger hair. Harry hadn't known which one it was, but he'd known it was one of his own. He started sprinting just as he'd heard Ron's bellow: _"Hugo!" _Cameras had started clicking madly behind him.

* * *

Hugo screamed forever. He wasn't aware of when he stopped making actual noise because he was still screaming in his brain. He wasn't aware that he had slowed down and was now only drifting, he was only aware that he was going to die and there was no way the caretaker could save him now. He knew he had been given the means to save himself, but the shock had torn the needed words from his memory. He just continued to flail, hoping against hope that something would find its way into his grasp and he wouldn't have to die. He heard his mother and father screaming and a sudden wind tore at him. He broke into a wail.

And then a miracle happened. Something, no _someone_, slammed into him and pulled him into strong arms. Hugo wrapped himself around the other's body like rope.

"_Frika me vendos pa_, Hugo! Use it!"

And suddenly it was all clear. He knew who had saved him, and he knew how to save himself. Hugo didn't need to see the shape of his fear, it was the shape of death. He opened his eyes and gave a mighty shout in his mind: _FRIKA ME VENDOS PA!_

The boy and the caretaker both grunted as they suddenly shifted from Hugo clinging to Mr. Snape, to Mr. Snape hanging off of Hugo, as they shot back up into the air, past his shocked father. He locked his ankles together around the man's back and hung on, trying to adjust to the weight of a grown man hanging off him as they rocketed straight up.

"I don't suppose you could pick a different direction other than up? We will eventually run out of oxygen, you know," Mr. Snape said in that irritated manner of his. Hugo twisted his head a bit to see. They were high above Hogwarts. They bounced higher. "Oh, stop that," he snapped. "You can't fall, you're _flying_. However, you _will_ eventually drop me and I would be much obliged if you could push your fear a little closer towards something to land on. I would prefer not to end up as a puddle."

"I _am_ flying, aren't I?" Hugo said, amazed. He looked around at the sky and saw a startled hawk zip off towards the forest.

"Yes, Hugo, you are."

Hugo looked back at the man and saw the ghost of a smile on his face. He realized his fear had lessened and they were descending again. He pushed his fear towards the Astronomy Tower, where his father was just making an awkward landing and his mother was waving frantically. They drifted that way slowly. Below them, a crowd had formed. He could see people scurrying around and a group was running into the castle. He saw Rose and Aunt Ginny circling about fifteen feet below on brooms. Rose was waving frantically but he only waggled his fingers at her, not wanting to risk his grip. His sister was crying. Hugo turned towards the caretaker.

"Are you going to try and kill my Dad again?"

"About that, I really tried not to. He was not in his right mind."

"I thought so. He was cursed, wasn't he?"

"Something very much like that, yes. But your Uncle Harry is here now. Everything will be fine."

"How do you know Uncle Harry is here?"

"Because we almost crushed him before you used the spell."

Hugo looked back at his parents, he could see them shouting at each other even as his mother poked her wand at his father's shoulder, obviously trying to heal it. He looked back at Mr. Snape.

"That's not my Dad's baby is it?"

Mr. Snape looked extremely uncomfortable.

"If I tell you the truth, will you drop me?"

"No. But I don't think you have to tell me now. It was the weekend of the ball, wasn't it?"

"_Must_ we go into details?"

"What about this one: is it a boy or a girl?" Mr. Snape let slip an honest, open smile and Hugo found himself smiling in return.

"A boy."

"I see you're happy about that."

"Very."

"Who will he look like?"

"Your mother." The caretaker's smile was replaced by an irritated pursing of his lips.

"You have no idea, do you?"

"Just fly, boy, before I let go to spare myself anymore questions."

"One more question," Hugo said, smiling at the man's scowl. "It's a big one too; you don't really have to answer if you don't want."

"If you are going to ask about the life debt, yes. It is well and truly cancelled."

"Oh, that's good to know! But that wasn't my question."

The caretaker narrowed his eyes. "Go on, then."

"What are _you_ afraid of?" Snape gave him a pained grimace and Hugo spoke quickly, trying to explain why he'd asked. "It's just that you don't seem to be afraid of anything! You jumped off that tower to get me and you completely assumed I would be able to fly! But you have to be afraid of something if you can use the spell and I was just wondering--" Hugo saw the deadened look in the man's eyes and felt suddenly stupid for asking such a thing. "Forget it. It was rude."

Mr. Snape just sighed heavily and tightened his arms around Hugo's shoulders. He could have just been adjusting his grip.

"Hugo, some days I am afraid of everything, even my own shadow. It's just that since I was younger than you I've never been allowed to show it. That's all. There's nothing wrong with being afraid. Only letting it stop you or make you do something foolish."

They fell into an awkward silence after that, clinging to each other but avoiding eye contact. Hugo tried to imagine a childhood where you weren't allowed to be scared, and couldn't. He looked over at the top of the tower. It was a bit more crowded. Besides his parents, the Minister, the Headmistress and his uncle were there as well as some reporters scribbling furious notes. Photographers were leaning out of windows along the tower.

"What's going to happen to my family, Mr. Snape?" he asked in a small voice. The caretaker rested his chin on Hugo's head.

"Hopefully it will just get bigger."

"And weirder."

"That's a given."

They were almost to the top of the tower, Rose and his aunt zipped up and landed, adding to the crowd.

"You said this spell wasn't very popular. Am I going to get in trouble?"

"Not at all. Just tell them the truth."

"Are _you_ going to get in trouble?"

The caretaker didn't answer he just shifted his weight and as soon as they were over the parapet, he pushed Hugo away and dropped. Hugo tried to hold on but couldn't. He bounced back up into the air several feet, the grim faces of the adults had set his fear bubbling again and the sudden loss of weight added to the bounce. The caretaker landed in a crouch, his cloak billowing out around him like wings. Hugo struggled to control his fear as he saw his father draw his wand, and worried about his intention. He flew straight back toward the tower, quicker than he had ever managed before. He hovered a foot over the stones. His mother ran over and grabbed him, holding him tight to her well-rounded belly. Rose ran over and grabbed his hand. When he saw her tears he started to cry as well and finally settled onto the stones. His father grabbed him roughly and squeezed hard before turning towards the caretaker.

* * *

Ron wrestled for control. He knew time was running out. Watching his son's plight, he had been fully himself. Now that his son was safe he was aware, more than ever, that he was being pushed toward an action he did not have the strength to fight. The longer he stood near Snape, the less likely he was to hold on to his sanity.

He turned from his son and looked at Hermione still swept away by her relief. He looked through the crowd at Lavender, staring at him with dread and fear. He looked at Harry and tried to convey some of his thoughts to his oldest and best friend.

Harry stepped forward but Kingsley Shacklebolt grabbed his shoulder.

"Not so fast, Potter," the Minister said. Shacklebolt was furious. Behind him the reporters were buzzing and Ron caught the words _'taught the boy the Dark Arts!'_ and _'Only Voldemort and Snape!' _The Headmistress was yelling, saying she had been the victim of a conspiracy and the reporters were scribbling down every word she said. Ron could see Kingsley's hand being forced as the reporters called for Snape's arrest. _'Good,' _his mind sang. _'Let the bastard rot back in prison where he belongs.' _Ron understood he was slipping. He understood everything now. In that moment between knowing his son was safe and facing his nemesis again, he had finally seen himself. He didn't like what he saw.

"I believe it would be in the best interests of the public, if you were to come with us, Mr. Snape," said the Minister. "Teaching a minor the Dark Arts is a very serious charge."

"It's not Dark magic!" cried Hugo. "He saved me! Again! He always saves me! That's not Dark!" Rose was shouting as well but Ginny shushed them both.

Ron shook from the intensity of his inner turmoil. _'Let him rot,_' the voice said. _'He ruined your life.'_ Ron felt a shudder run through him as he looked at Snape. The bastard stood there with no expression on his face at all. He just stared at Hermione--_'my wife!'--_and had eyes for no one else. He didn't acknowledge the Minister, or the reporters and his only reaction to Ron stepping directly in front of him was a twitch of his eye behind the fringe of his hair.

"Ron…" Harry warned behind him. '_Harry, forever trying to protect the bastard.'_

Ron growled as his wand came up and stabbed towards Snape.

"_Relashio!_" he cried, aiming his wand at Snape's wrist in a desperate final attempt to overcome his own madness. There was a general uproar and people started to move. He used his body to block Snape from the Aurors as the iron cuff fell to the ground.

Snape bellowed in seeming agony as his magic poured out of him in a bright silvery surge. Hermione cried out and flew into his arms and Ron lost sight of them both in the glaring light. Rose darted forward and grabbed the cuff and Hugo vanished it from her hands. When the light died down, Snape had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione and his face buried in her hair by her ear.

"Weasley! What the hell did you just do!" yelled Kingsley. The reporters were in ecstasy, scribbling furiously. And Sinistra seemed to be apoplectic. Ron didn't care. He didn't care about anything. He was completely overwhelmed by the sudden, euphoric feeling of freedom.

The accretion of seventeen years' worth of little agonies and pains were lifted from him, burned away by the cleansing brightness of Snape and Hermione's completed bond. He felt a hand on his back and turned to see his sister staring at him with love and pride and felt his heart swell. Rose and Hugo came and wrapped their arms around him. Their faces were a mixture of happiness and fear and confusion. He hugged them tightly. Lavender pushed through the crowd of reporters but then stopped a foot away. Her hands were clasped together as if to keep them from grabbing at him. He looked at her and smiled. She smiled timidly back and he felt his heart skip a beat. So. That's what it felt like. He remembered that feeling from a long, long time ago.

"Stand aside!" yelled Kingsley. "Potter, arrest these men! Damn it. Take them back to the Ministry, I want some answers!"

Ron gave Snape a look before hugging his children and pushing them toward his sister. He turned and faced Harry, who looked ashen.

"Oh what charge?" Ron asked. "I remember my Auror training, Minister. Snape was a free man from the moment that release order in Harry's hand was signed. I just removed his cuff for you."

"But you clearly heard me say I wanted him brought in for questioning!"

"But you would have had to actually arrest him on charges to do it. You can't drag him in on a parole violation if his parole is over. Anyone can take the cuffs off once the prisoner is already free."

Kingsley sputtered.

"He's right, sir." Harry said. "We came here to free Mr. Snape, everyone knows that. You never directly said he should be arrested, only that we needed to question him about whether or not he taught the boy any of the Dark Arts. We certainly have no grounds to arrest Ron. He might be subject to a fine, but not arrest."

"Fine then. Let me be clear. Arrest Snape, on suspicion of corrupting a minor with the Dark Arts while a prisoner of the Ministry."

Harry visibly sagged, but turned and signaled to two of his Aurors. Snape pushed Hermione away gently and stood straight and tall before them. His head held high.

"Severus Snape, you are hereby placed under arrest for suspicion of teaching the Dark Arts to a minor. Will you come with us please?" Harry said. Ron saw a look pass between them but couldn't make it out. Harry had his wand trained on Snape, it didn't waver, it didn't lower. Snape just smirked at him and then sneered at Kingsley.

"No."

Considering what they had all just seen and what the basis for the charges against him were, it was more than a little surprising that no one was prepared for Snape to launch himself straight up. He rocketed into the sky, infinitely faster than any speed Ron had ever seen on a broom. No one had a chance to move and only Harry fired off a hex before Snape stopped and spun in midair with a billow of cloak. He disappeared in a deafening crack of Apparition that echoed across the grounds.

"Bloody hell!" said Rose.

"Cool," added Hugo.

Chaos erupted all around them and Ron reached back and gave Lavender's hand a quick squeeze before reaching out and pulling Hermione close by her arm. They all gathered together and Ginny and Lavender huddled close as well, as the press started to scream questions at them. Ron cast a silencing charm around them and then turned to Hermione.

"You gave him your wand, didn't you?" he said gently, proud of her forethought.

"No, I gave him one of his I had found in that old desk," she replied.

Just then there was a pop and three scrolls tumbled out of the air and bounced off their heads. Ron grabbed at two of them and Hugo caught the other and handed it to his mother. He opened one and then quickly opened the other. He looked up as she finished scanning the scroll in her hand.

She offered the scroll to him.

"You're divorced now," she said. He held up one of the scrolls in his hand.

"So are you." He lifted the other. "But you also just got married as well, so there's that." He gave her a crooked smile.

They looked at each other and the emotion they shared was bittersweet and terrible. The feelings they had always shared were right there, unmasked, and undiluted. And yet, there was a chasm between them now.

"I'm so sorry, Ron. I swear I never knew. Not until a week or so ago."

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry too, Mi. For everything. Somehow, I think I always _did _know."

"So are you two ever going to tell us what's going on?" snapped Rose. "I think we deserve to know why you two just got divorced but apparently that's just fine with everyone." Hugo stepped closer to his sister and plucked at her sleeve like he had done since he was little whenever he was scared.

Hermione sighed.

"I think we need to all sit down and have a very long talk," she said. Lavender stepped back but Hermione caught her eye and shook her head to stop her. "That includes you too, I think." She looked over at Harry who was red in the face as Kingsley yelled at him outside the range of Ron's spell.

"Ginny, you need to release Harry from his oath before he does something rash like chew his tongue off." She shook her head and sighed. "This has been a wretched day."

Ginny scurried over to her husband's side. Hermione put her hand on her children's shoulders and guided them over toward the Minister as Ron canceled his charm and followed behind with Lavender.

"Kingsley," Hermione said. "You are due an explanation. If you would follow us back to our quarters I will tell you all that I can, and my son will explain what we all saw. If you still feel a need to press charges after that, at least you will have the whole picture."

"Your quarters?" snapped Sinistra. "You don't _have_ quarters! You're _fired_! Both of you! All _three _of you!"

"Oh, Aurora, do shut up. You can't terminate our contracts without the approval of the board. So, yes, _our_ quarters, at least until tomorrow."

"I will gladly follow you to your quarters for an explanation," said Kingsley, mollified a bit now that someone was going to give him an idea of just what was going on.

Hermione nodded to Harry and Ginny and they fell in line, as the group made its way through the crowd and down the stairs, nearly blinded by flash bulbs. One of the photographers ran up and flashed a camera right in Hugo's face and Rose launched herself at him. In the ensuing scuffle one of the reporters got a palmful of Hermione's belly and the resulting shout echoed around the stairwell: _The teacher's pregnant! _Followed by vicious speculation. Ron stepped forward and dragged Hermione behind him. Harry and Ginny shielded the children. Lavender took point, wand first, and together they all moved down the stairs. Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder as they set out on their way to somewhere private, to explain the inexplicable and try to make everything that had happened in the last year make some kind of sense.

* * *

*

Thank youz go to** Hebe GB **for pushing me when I needed it, caring when I needed it and working solo on this chapter, because _you_ needed it. Any errors found are mine. Also, thank you all so much for the good wishes and thoughts, they were sorely needed. I am hopelessly behind on reviews, so I will thank everyone for their wonderful words and reactions here. I treasured them all! The good news is, the story is done and only needs to be beta'd and tweeked. The final chapters will be slapped up as fast as they can. No more delays!


	21. Obligations

**AN:** Thank you to my lovely beta **Hebe GB** and also to **Dressagegrrrl** who I hope is reading this on her vacation!

* * *

The silence of the old cemetery was broken by a crack of Apparition that sent two tattered crows squawking into the sky. The man that appeared out of nowhere flailed his arms madly as he stumbled backwards several steps before losing any chance to recover his balance. He sat down hard on the cold, slushy ground.

"Bollocks!" Snape yelled. He held his hands up out of the cold, wet muck and looked as if he was getting set to murder someone. His eye caught the wand in his grip and he sneered with disgust and clambered to his feet. He cleaned and dried himself with a few choice flicks of the wand and checked to make sure all of his parts had made the journey with him. Eyeing the cloak, he added another flick and it lengthened to a proper fit for the first time in two years.

He looked around at his surroundings before orienting on a broken angel as a landmark. He kept an eye on it and walked east. Eventually he came upon the two graves he was looking for.

"Hello, Mother," he said with sad politeness to the simple mossy stone at his feet. There was no reply.

He looked around, making sure he was alone in the abandoned cemetery and then took care to clean off her grave. He set about tidying up the overgrown weeds that had matted down on top and scouring the stone itself until the words Eileen Prince Snape were easily read in sharp, clear, relief. He stared at the chiseled name in silence for a long while before heaving a sigh. A quiet pop startled him and he drew his wand as he crouched. A rolled up parchment dropped to the ground in front of him and he scowled at it before prodding it with his wand. He eventually reached out and grabbed it, scanning it quickly. He turned back to the stone he had cleaned and waved the parchment at it.

"Got married today, Mum," he said, tossing the parchment down and standing back up. "Winky," he called. Another, louder, pop announced the elf's arrival.

"How can Winky help the sir?" she said.

"It's time, elf. Make your decision."

The elf smiled and patted him on the knee. "Winky decided. Winky is ready."

Snape gave the elf a small smile and patted it awkwardly on the head. "Then you know what to do."

"Yes, sir! Right away! Trust Winky!"

The elf popped away again and he turned toward the other grave. The more impressive, expensive stone his Muggle relatives had pooled their money for, while the deceased's son went hungry for a crust of bread. He aimed his wand in front of it and started to blast away. First gobbets of muddy slush flew away but wet clods of earth soon accompanied them. By the time the elf returned, holding his slouchy tweed cap, he was straddling a freshly dug, albeit shallow, grave.

He looked over at the elf. "Did you get everything?" he asked as he reached across and took the hat, settling it on his head.

"Winky did, sir. Everything you care about. Winky has it all in the box."

"Excellent. I trust you said your farewells?"

"Sir is too kind, but there is no need. Hogwarts never claimed Winky. Hogwarts elves never bothered either."

"Are you ready to be claimed again? To serve the less than illustrious House of Snape?"

Winky started to vibrate with happiness and bobbed and curtsied in place before starting to dance in a small circle. "Yes, sir, Winky is truly ready. I be a good house elf for the Master. I will!"

"Right then." Snape reached out with his wand and let it bounce off the elf's head once. "You're mine."

He turned back to his digging, ignoring the slightly confused expression on the elf's face.

"Did you scout the manor?"

"Yes, sir. Winky saw it was all still alone."

"Right then," he said. "Up we go." He flicked his wand and levitated three medium sized strongboxes out of the hole he had dug. "Careful, elf. They are heavier than they look."

"Sir is very kind to Winky, but sir doesn't need to be concerned." The elf grabbed hold of one of the strongboxes and disappeared.

Snape levitated the last two strongboxes out of the pit before starting to fill the hole back up. By the time the grave was basically in order again, the elf had transported all of Snape's gold.

He looked around the cemetery again before turning back to his mother's grave and reaching down to pluck up the parchment.

"I promise I will do better, Mum," he said, quietly. He stepped back and with a slight turn he was gone. The sound of his exit barely disturbed the afternoon breeze.

*

Snape stood in the foyer of Malfoy Manor and looked around at the desolation. The grand house had been stripped bare. By whom, he didn't know. Vandals would only have had access recently. The Ministry wards in situ were thready and useless and it had taken no time for Snape to slip through the holes. The Malfoy wards were gone. He made his way through the house and down a flight of stairs off the kitchens. Once he reached the basement, he lit his wand and headed straight to where Winky was perched, banging her heels against the recycled trunk from his rooms at Hogwarts. The strongboxes were neatly stacked next to it.

"Ready?"

"Winky is always ready when sir needs her."

He turned toward the large fireplace in the room and removed the stasis spell on the wood in the grate. A quick _Incendio _and it was roaring with flames that lit up the dreary room. He grabbed a handful of floo powder out of the small box on the floor and tossed it in.

"Château de Malfoy!" he called out when the flames had turned green.

* * *

"Soul Bonds and life debts," Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his head slowly from side to side. "You realize how insane this all sounds? How imposible this will be to cover up? The whole wizarding world will see pictures of this boy flying by tonight's edition of the paper. I can't pretend it didn't happen. And every married person who saw that light will know what happened between you and Snape, Hermione. Those scrolls sent by the clerk's office could only mean one thing." He blew out a breath. "Well, first of all, try and say nothing about the life debt. The less said about that the better. You broke several laws, Weasley, regardless of what influences you were under. I will sniff out who on the Wizengamot knows about the laws pertaining to that and get some legal advice for you. Gods, how the hell have any of you survived these last years?"

"Miserably," muttered Rose quietly. Hermione and Ron both reached over and reassured her. They were seated on their couch with Rose and Hugo between them. Lavender was in a chair next to Ron and Kingsley sat facing across from them, with Harry and Ginny to the side of him on a small settee transfigured from the desk.

"I have no choice but to open an inquiry into the spell Snape taught your son. There's no getting around that. I suggest you and your family take an early holiday. Stay in contact and don't leave the country, but I would stay away from public areas for the duration."

"Are we prisoners under orders not to leave the country?" asked Hermione, drawing a curious stare from Harry.

"No," he said. "It would just look bad if you were to be seen outside of the country. It would look like you were running away. But you're not under any suspicion yourselves. Only Snape was charged."

"Well that was stupid to begin with," she snorted. "You know he would never teach a child the Dark Arts. The spell works on fear, yes, but it doesn't by its nature induce it and it obviously can be used for good, as we've seen today."

"We don't know that. It's only conjecture at this point. Logical conjecture, yes, but we need _proof_. And the only other person who knows the damned spell has done a bunk," Kingsley said impatiently. "Do you know where he went? You're his Soul Mate, where did he go?"

Hermione spread her hands apart and shrugged. "I couldn't begin to tell you," she answered. Harry's eyes started to sparkle and he looked away from her as Kingsley levered himself up from the end of the settee.

"I will go handle the press. I suggest you all stay quiet and then make a discreet exit." He looked at them all and shook his head. He narrowed his eyes at Harry. "I'm canceling our date. Let's let the dust settle and then do dinner another time, hmm?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said contritely.

He waited until the Minister of Magic left the room and then turned towards Hermione.

"You're scary sometimes, you know that?" She just smiled in response. Ginny and Ron exchanged confused looks and Rose and Hugo both turned to look at their mother.

"What did she do this time?" quipped Ron.

"She lied to the Minister," said Lavender with awe.

"No, she _didn't _lie, that was what was so creepy," said Harry. Hermione just smiled wider.

"So you _don't_ know where Snape went?" asked Ginny, confused.

"No, I _do_ know where he is," Hermione replied.

"It's secret-kept," said Harry. "So she really couldn't begin to tell him. I'm really starting to understand how this whole Soul Bond thing works." He laughed and patted Ginny on the knee. "C'mon. Walk me to the door."

"When did he tell you, Mum?" asked an anxious Hugo.

Hermione screwed up her face and answered. "While we were getting married, so to speak."

"And I thought this family was weird before," added Rose.

Ron pulled her into a hug. "Now it just gets weirder and bigger," he said.

"That's what Mr. Snape said he hoped would happen. He told me when we were flying," said Hugo. Ron sat back and gave him a puzzled stare.

"Really? He said that?"

"Yeah," Hugo replied.

"And are you okay with that? With having Snape and a new brother, and another new brother or sister and maybe even Lavender someday if she'll have us? Your mum and I may not be married anymore but we're still family. It's probably going to be the weirdest family in history. I mean, it's a lot to pile onto small shoulders."

"Dad," said Rose. "I think we can handle it if it means you and Mum actually get along instead of pretend. You're lousy actors. Being your kids hasn't been much fun for years now. As for all the babies, don't expect me to change any nappies and I might be okay with it."

"Sounds like a deal," Ron said.

Hermione shoved herself off the couch, as Ginny came back over to them.

"Well, we have an escape to plan. Ginny, can you run the kids to Gryffindor tower and help them pack up quickly?"

"Sure," she said.

"Where are we escaping to?" asked Hermione. "Garrigill? The Burrow? Grandma and Grandpa Granger?"

"Can we go to all of them?" asked Hugo.

* * *

Snape kept his grip on Winky's hand as they whirled through the illegal, yet carefully masked, floo connection. Lucius's father had installed it when he had been a young man and Lucius had seen to it that all records of the international floo were destroyed. Its presence had been further hidden when they had made his ancestral home secret-kept. It had been intended as an escape in case things had gone sour but none of them had ever got the chance to use it. Snape made good use of it now.

He stepped through into more desolation. The enormous drawing room was stripped bare, just like the manor. He wasn't that surprised. Even twenty years ago, this ancient seat for the Malfoy line had only seeing use once or twice a year, having been left to the house elves for generations. But the thick layers of dust and cobwebs spoke of yet another chapter in its history of faded glory. There were not even house elves anymore.

Snape's heart thudded painfully in his chest. He ran. Casting _Homenum Revelio_ before him frequently, he made short work of the huge mansion's four floors. If Draco was still alive, he wasn't in this mausoleum. He turned and hurried down the steps in the fading light and dashed out of the Great House and down the portico towards the former winery. Snape had been given that building ages ago and had renovated it at that time. Running full out down the over-grown south lawn, he almost collapsed from relief when he saw lights illuminating the windows. Not that he broke his speed.

He took a moment to catch his breath and settle himself before he rapped sharply on the door and opened it. He was immediately confronted by an angry house elf that chatted at him in rapid-fire French with the typical house elf colloquialisms that made it hard to understand.

"Vous parlez Anglais?" Snape demanded.

"Oui!" the elf barked back.

"Where is Draco?"

"Who are you and why would you ask that?"

"I'm his godfather. His parrain."

"Son parrain? Alors, vous êtes Severus Snape - non? Vous auriez pu simplement me dit que depuis le début."

"Oui! Severus Snape! En Anglais, you bloody elf! I haven't spoken French in seventeen years! Where is he?"

"Suivez-moi, Monsieur."

Snape growled as he followed the elf.

They made their way to what had been Snape's personal bedroom and before the elf could lead him inside Snape reached out and grabbed it by its ear and pulled it behind him with a squeak.

"Fuck off, s'il vous plaît," he said with quiet menace. The elf vanished with an affronted pop. Snape pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Mollox, ce qui se passe?" said a frail voice from across the darkened room.

"Draco?" Snape replied.

"Severus? It that you?" Snape walked across the room to the thin figure trying to rise from the overstuffed chair.

"Sit back down, boy. I'm too tired to pick you up off the floor." He grabbed a small stool and sat down in front of Draco, taking both of his hands into his own.

"Severus! Gods, I didn't hope to see you for another month at least. Actually, I didn't hope to see you, at all."

"I told you I was coming," Snape replied, irritated.

"Oh I knew that, I just don't think I will last much longer. That's why I decided to park in your rooms. At least this way you would be sure to find me."

"You have my humble gratitude for that sentiment," Snape replied snidely. "I cannot tell you how pleased I would have been to crawl to my bed at the end of a long day and find your rotting corpse. Idiot boy. Now, let's have a look at you, guard your eyes." When Draco had covered his eyes with a hand, Snape brightened the room with a flick of his wand. "Well, you always were the golden boy, but this is taking it to extremes."

"Very funny."

Draco was rail thin and jaundiced, with deep-set, hollowed eyes. His dull hair hung down to his boney chest and fluttered with the beat of his heart. His fingernails were papery and flaked away at a touch. His skin was dry and burning with fever.

"When did the liver start to go?"

"Last month."

"Give me a run down."

As Draco proceeded to list the various symptoms, Snape ran through a series of complicated diagnostic spells, taking extensive notes on a piece of parchment that he'd snatched off the bedside table.

Just as they were finishing there was a loud pop, and a crate appeared in the floor next to them. Both men jumped.

"Bollocks!" muttered Snape. "Winky!"

The elf appeared right away.

"Sir called Winky?"

"Run around and have a good look around this place. When you see the room with the large oak barrels, that's the lab. Come back and take this crate there. Quickly now!" Snape jumped up and moved out onto the open floor, just as another crate arrived.

"What the devil is all that?" asked Draco.

"Potions supplies."

"Who's sending it?"

"Mrs. Shilling," answered Snape as he shifted to another open part of the room. "She appears to be cleaning out her potion stores." Winky appeared and vanished the first crate just as a third arrived.

"You got _married_?"

"Yes." Another crate arrived. "Not so bloody fast, woman!" Snape snarled, dodging a fifth and trying not to stomp on his elf as she darted around vanishing the crates that it seemed were keyed to appear near him.

"When?"

"Just before they tried to arrest me again." A sixth crate appeared with the audibly metallic thump that denoted several stacked cauldrons and other tools of the trade inside.

"What the hell? When was that?"

"Shortly after they came to free me." A seventh.

"Severus, _when_?"

"About two hours ago."

The two men stared at each other in silence. Snape blushed and Draco quirked a smile. Snape took a cautious step closer and a eighth and final crate arrived with a letter stuck to the top of it. He snatched it off and stuffed it in his pocket just as Winky vanished the crate.

"Thank you, Winky. That will be all."

"Is sir wanting Winky to start cleaning the big house?"

"Good gods, no," Snape replied. Winky's ears drooped. "Send my trunk up here and then you can go clean the other house if it makes you happy. But only one room a day!" he added before the elf disappeared. "Daft elf will clean herself to death."

"Can she cook?" asked Draco with hopeful eyes.

"I don't actually know. Why? Can't that detestable elf of yours cook?"

"Mollox? He cooks, I wouldn't call it food."

"By the way, I need you to tell me how you take an elf into service. I never paid attention to those things before."

"She's very obedient for not being in your service."

"She serves out of friendship, Draco. But she needs more and it behooves me to deliver."

"Well, it's easy enough done, just a bit of ritual. As you can see, it's easy enough to unbind them as well."

"Where _are_ the rest of them?" Snape asked.

Draco's face fell. "Traded to various lesser relations for money and medicine, along with everything else over the years as you might have seen. Mollox is the last. He's a good sort, just protective and a bit surly. Reminds me of someone." Snape glowered at him as he came back to sit at his side again.

"Have you been able to access the monies in the vault?"

"The vault? Oh. I see. I haven't. I forgot the wards would be down now and it would be open. I had already moved in here by that time. I didn't notice the wards on the estate, only yours." Draco looked away as his eyes filled with tears. Snape reached out and covered his hand and Draco closed his thumb around it while contemplating the drapery. "I'm glad I got your letter first then. It would have been dreadful to feel all their wards fail around me." Snape didn't reply, just squeezed his hand gently, and paid him the courtesy of not noticing the younger man's tears.

They jumped again when Snape's trunk appeared in the middle of the floor.

"So who is she?" Draco asked gently. He smiled slightly when he saw his godfather's discomfort.

"Granger," Snape answered after a pause. Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"Grang--But didn't I read she was married to the Weasel?"

"She was."

"How scandalous. When did they get divorced?"

"Sometime during the wedding ceremony this afternoon, I imagine."

"Severus, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Eventually, but I don't think you have the energy for the whole sordid tale now. Why don't we get you into bed and rested up and I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

"You do have a point. I _am_ tired--I'm always tired. But answer me this: are you happy?"

Snape looked at him and saw the deep concern in his godson's eyes.

"My life will be perfect once you are healed, boy. Preferably that will happen _before_ my son is born."

"_Severus!" _Snape scooped Draco up into his arms--too easily--and walked over to the bed. After he had him tucked in, studiously ignoring Draco's badly executed attempts at gaining more information, he went and opened the lid of his trunk and started pulling out vials of potions.

"How are your teeth?" he asked looking at the vials in his hand.

"Fine, except for the two that Blanchers punched out in Azkaban."

"Then here," he tossed a vial on the bed. "Drink that one now. They're going out of date and I have more important things to brew." Snape busied himself organizing the myriad potions and vials he had pilfered from his future wife over the last two years, while they had played their elaborate game and danced their elaborate dance. He dosed and drugged and infused his godson with everything needed to start building up his endurance for the recovery process and help him sleep comfortably. He never once let on that he had no idea how to pull it off.

He came back over to the bed for a last check before shutting out the lights. Draco reached up and grabbed at his wrist.

"Does she care for you, Severus?" he asked in a sleepy voice.

Snape looked down on the man who had always been the supercilious, egotistical, spoiled prat of a son he'd never had. "Yes, Draco. She cares for me very much."

"And you care for her in return?"

Snape smiled. A warm, deep smile that used all the muscles in his face. "With all my soul."

Draco nodded, content with whatever he'd seen on his godfather's face.

"Hell of a wedding night," he said. Snape understood what he hadn't said and squeezed his hand gently.

*

Snape entered his lab, with his trunk floating before him and a pile of clothes on top that he'd pulled out of his wardrobe quietly while Draco slept. He looked around the cavernous lab, the only remnants of its former vinery life were the huge oaken barrels and two enormous presses. He'd kept them, despite their uselessness. They added a certain charm. The lab looked neat and tidy yet still had the desolate air of a place left too long without use. He looked at the row of crates, wondering how Hermione had managed her feat. Obviously there was some sort of portkey involved and he _had _given her the address, but usually portkeys dropped things at the doorstep. He had known from the start that these crates were honing in on his exact location. How, he wasn't sure.

He pushed open the door to his study and found it just the same as he had left it over twenty years ago. A large, handsome desk filled one side of the room and mostly empty bookshelves abutted along every wall. The other side of the room was full of filing cabinets and a small camp bed he had used when working on potions that took a long duration. He floated his trunk over towards the bed and settled it down by the foot. He _Tergeoed _the sheets and pillows for his own peace of mind. They looked clean enough, but he'd had enough of stale filth for a lifetime so even the idea of it repulsed him. He flipped open the trunk and found it positively crammed full. The elf had packed everything that wasn't nailed down. He picked up the framed photo of a nervous and relieved looking Filch and a rather disgruntled Mrs. Norris and walked over and placed it on the desk. Next he pulled out and enlarged all the pillows and the blanket. He tossed the pillows onto the bed, creating a ridiculously decadent pile. He rubbed his fingers across the blanket before snapping it out and guiding it into place. He twisted around and dropped down onto the bed, fishing in his pocket for the letter from his new wife. He propped one knee up and left the other to dangle over the edge, shoving his arm behind his head as he leaned back on the mountain of pillows.

'_Severus,_

'_So how _does_ one start a letter like this? Dear Severus? My dearest husband of that last hour or so? My love? My soul? They all will function, and they all are apt, but none of them feel quiet right. Terms of endearment feel necessary and yet don't seem to sit right. They are not enough and yet, they are also too much too soon. Every phrase I can think of falls flat in trying to convey what I desire to express and the confusion it brings with it._

'_Know that I am with you in soul and in spirit. Literally. I can feel you across the vast distance. I felt your pain and know it is tied to Draco. Harry explained what was going on with his health. I was in the process of cleaning out my potions closet when your worry exploded into an agony of concern. Therefore, I have decided the best thing to do is to ship you everything so you can get a start on his potions.'_

Snape frowned as he saw the familiar handwriting change into the too precise, perfect script of a charmed quill.

'_My research into Soul Bonds revealed an interesting fact about how we orient on each other and I have exploited that while turning the crates into a type of portkey. Oh, bloody hell, I've dropped the newt livers! EVANESCO! Anyway, I do hope it all went well. My magic held up throughout the process but at this stage in the pregnancy, anything is likely to happen. I will send you more things when I get settled myself. No, Ron, the boomslang should go in this crate. Thank you._

'_Pardon my use of a quick quotes quill, obviously I have my hands busy at the moment. It's only a matter of time before Sinistra shows up with our termination papers so we are packing up and shipping out tonight while they are all at dinner. What? Oh, that's very good. You and Lavender go do your office then, Ginny and I are almost done here. _

'_We are leaving Hogwarts this evening, as soon as everyone is packed and dinner starts in the Great Hall. Did I say that already? Oh, damn. I'm babbling and this bloody quill is getting every bit of it. It's best that we have less of an audience as we take our leave. The children are confused enough without finger pointing and open gossip. _

'_Rose is the most upset. She's confused about some things and rather blasé about others. But mostly she is angered at the mutual betrayals and what she now knows was an intentional injury done to her father. Interestingly enough, she has no issue with either you or Lavender. Her anger is squarely directed at her father and me. As it should be. Oh, yes, Ginny says she's rather put out with her Aunt as well. That won't last. Ginny is her hero._

'_Hugo is too gentle a soul to be comfortable being angry. So he compensates by being far too worried about everyone else. He's barely taken more than three steps away from his sister. He worries for you and is taking on blame he doesn't deserve. Of course, Ron and I have lost their trust a good bit so our input is immediately tossed on the floor as useless._

'_We are taking them to the Burrow tonight. My parents are already on their way there. We will stay there as long as they need it. Surrounding them with people they love will be best for the next several days. _

'_By the way, when you get a chance, look at your _Patronus_. Mine has changed and I can only assume yours has as well. Hugo thinks it's because the creatures mate for life. Whatever the reason I assure you it is a lot less practical than my otter and damned near gave my parents aneurisms. _

'_Also: Harry says to be careful of Aurors looking for you to show up near me. He says he will be removed from the need to know list due to conflict of interest but it would be the first thing he would do._

'_Which brings me to this: Do you need my help right away? I cannot tell your thoughts but I can feel the echoes. Is Draco as bad as you feared? I will copy all my notes on my potion and the other areas of research I have explored that led to this. I will also continue to send my ideas for vector targeting for individual organs. If you can, send me his medical records. I have a few other things I can send you as well. I am enclosing my scribbled notes on how to use the bond in making portkeys. I hope they are legible enough, I don't have time to recopy them neatly but can if needed. _

'_Gin, could you give me a minute? Thanks._

'_Severus, if you need me, I will come tonight. You saved my son. I would do anything in my power to repay that even if I couldn't feel your anxiety. If you need my help with Draco, I'm sure the family would understand. Tell me what you need, Severus. I miss you terribly already._

'_Yours for eternity,_

'_Hermione'_

Snape read the letter through twice and then the accompanying notes. He looked at his trunk with a bit of guilt. He had already spent hours carefully copying all of her research notes and every other scrap of information she'd had, as well as recopying his own old notebooks. It had been hours spent with cramped fingers scratching against pilfered parchment, but he had deemed it worth the aggravation at the time. He had also not thought twice about stealing a sample of her Cardiac Potion. Now he felt like he had indulged in a petty act against her good nature.

He refolded the letter and shoved himself off the bed.

"Winky!"

"Master called for Winky?" she said as soon as she appeared.

"Have you found a place to nest yet?"

"Winky is too busy cleaning to make a nest! Winky has much to do!"

"Let's get a few things straight here. This building is mine. That great pile of crumbling stone is Draco's. If you want to amuse yourself over there, no one will stop you, but your service is to this place first. Now, there are several suitable cupboards out in the lab. Stake out which one you want. I will be filling the others and need to know which you would prefer. Also," he snatched up a pillow and pulled off the casing. A flick of his wand turned it a deep, warm amber color. He added a few holes. "This is yours. Take that Hogwarts rag off. And this is rubbish do with it what you will." He tossed the pillow at her and she snatched at it and quivered with pleasure. He had no doubts it would be made into her bed. "Let me know where you nest when I get back. I have a lot of work to do. Oh, and one more thing. If you are at all thinking of mating with that insufferable elf Mollox, I just want you to know you would be seriously diluting your gene pool." He turned away from the goggle-eyed elf.

Grabbing up some clothes he headed off to take a bath. It was while he was soaking in the tub that he decided to check and see what had happened to his _Patronus. _The love and adoration of Lily Potter had faded in the years he spent in Azkaban. He had always attributed the decrease in his feelings to the completion of his task. It had never occurred to him that there would be any other reason. Now he felt a twinge of sadness as one of the constants in his life was about to be taken away from him. Not that he had regrets. What he had now, even as far away as she was, was infinitely sweeter that the constant memory of what he had never been good enough for.

He flicked his wand. _"Expecto Patronum!" _The silvery light shot out of his wand and expanded. When it continued to expand his eyes widened in alarm. When it settled into its form, filling half of his large, self-indulgent bath. His face froze in shock.

"God's bollocks!" he shouted. Not getting enough satisfaction from that expletive he punched the water with both hands. "Fuck _me_!" The life-sized Griffin pawed at the tiled floor and looked around expectantly until Snape banished it with a wet flick of his wand. "Mate for life my arse! It's all those damned Gryffindors warping my soul!" He tossed his wand away with disgust and settled down to soak and sulk. A pop made him turn his head and he saw a tray had appeared with a familiar-looking cut glass tumbler and a half empty bottle of Ogden's best. There was a note on the tray that simply read: _'I'm so sorry! -H.'_

* * *

_My Beloved Siren,_

_Although it pains me greatly to write it, my advice is to stay where you are; your family needs you. You need them. It must be the influence of your half of this damned soul. I assure you I am a selfish creature by nature and I dislike this distance between us. I want you here, right now, right next to me. This wretched bed is too empty, as is my heart. I never entertained even a remote fantasy of what my wedding night would be like, but I assure you if I had, in some unremembered delirium, this isn't it._

_The gold is to tide you and your entire family over until things settle down. Since I bear more than a little responsibility for you both being currently unemployed, it is the least I can do. Let me know if you need more._

_I will start on Draco's healing potions tomorrow. The ingredients are all put away, my gratitude, beloved. Enclosed are my notes on his physical state. As you will see, he is in dire straights. His heart is basically sound, but his pancreas, lungs and now his liver are breaking down. _

_I have an admission to make, my siren. I already had all your notes. I spent hours copying them down by hand after our first discussion on the matter. Damn your Gryffindor half of this foolishly entwined soul. I despise forthright honesty. It lacks elegance._

_My sincerest gratitude for the best glass of Firewhiskey I have ever had in my life, even if it was already mine to begin with. A year ago, I would have thought the experience damned near orgasmic. But since I have been with you, my siren, I will say it merely came with a wealth of pleasantness. _

_I will send this to you now, you clever girl, before I sober up and rethink my words._

_Yours until eternity ends,_

_Severus_

_P.S. Since you have found interesting ways to use this bond we share, then it behooves me to come up with a similarly useful way to exploit it. In the interests of research, and in honor of our Wedding Night, I propose an experiment. I'm going to think of your amazing tits and have a wank. Keep me apprised of any empirical evidence you accrue._

~*^*~

_Severus,_

_I'm in the middle of a serious discussion with Lavender and Molly! Yes! Your experiment works! Too well! Now stop!_

_Hermione_

~*^*~

_Mrs. Snape,_

_It's late and I can tell your ankles are swollen. You need to go to bed. Now. I'll count to ten._

_Mr. Snape_

~*^*~

_S_

_You can't tell my ankles are swollen, you daft man. Give me time to tuck the children into bed. Twenty minutes at least._

_H_

~*^*~

_Why are they still up at this hour? Fifteen. Not a second more, or I shall start regardless. It's our Wedding Night. _

~*^*~

_Severus,_

_I love you, you thoroughly depraved letch! That was marvelous! Enclosed you will find one pair of knickers soaked with evidence. However, I think it might not be enough to draw any firm conclusions. I'll see your wank and raise you the feminine ability for instant replay. Try to keep up._

_Your Wife_

* * *

In the darkened study moonlight streamed through the closed blinds, illuminating with stripes of silver the man grunting on the bed. He was on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his arms full of pillows. He let out an almost anguished sounding groan as he thrust his hips against his mattress. He wasn't even hard anymore, he was long past the point where there was even any emission. The blanket, having slid low on his hips, did nothing to hide the flexing muscles as he ground himself against the wet sheets. His eyes were shut tight and the muscles in his jaws spoke of teeth clenched fiercely together as he rolled his face against the mound of pillows in ecstasy. His every muscle was knotted into taught cords as yet another orgasm ripped through him. He screamed into the pillows and sagged down onto the bed. He didn't move until, finally, his lanky arm snaked out and grabbed clumsily at the quill and parchment on the floor next to the bed.

'_Are you sure this isn't harmful to my son?'_

He dropped the quill and scrabbled for his wand, sending the parchment on its way. He cleaned the sheets with another flick and tossed the wand back to the floor.

A reply came almost instantly on the same slip of paper: _'He's perfectly safe. Ready to concede defeat?'_ He lifted the parchment to his nose and groaned at the evidence of her messy fingers. _'Hell no,' _he sent back. He reached for the bottle of firewhiskey and took a swig just as the sensations started again. He whimpered and placed the bottle back on the floor. He returned to his position. Arms clasped around the pile of pillows, elbows braced. He looked for all the world like he was bracing himself for a blow. In a way he was. As she rebuilt her own pleasure, he was helplessly transported along with her. It took longer this time but eventually the result was the same. He let go with a stream of profanity and started to grind his semi-limp cock into the mattress again. His face went slack this time; he was too far-gone to fight it anymore. He groaned and whimpered as he flexed. He eventually lifted himself up on his arms, his taut buttocks thrusting with abandon.

"Yes…yes…fuck _yesss_…that's it my siren, so close...just one more…give me one more…_f-fuck_, I love you too… my heart, my soul…yes that's it, curl them, just like that, oh…oh gods Yes! Yes! Fuck…come for me woman! _Nghhhf! Oh…_I love you, gods I love you! _Hermione…"_ His head was thrown back as his cry was torn out of him. He shuddered and collapsed. This time he didn't move at all. The silvery striped moonlight revealed a man who was completely insensate. Eventually the stillness of the air was broken by a quiet snore.

The parchment popped back into the room and floated lazily to the floor. _'Sleep well, Beloved.'_

* * *

Thank you to all my reviewers!

**Up Next:** A Reunion, A Healing, and a Birth...


	22. The Little Prince

**AN: **Thank you to** Hebe GB**, who not only betas on demand, but actually has delivered babies! And a big welcome back to **Dressagegrrl**, who thinks she's getting off easy, coming back at the end, but is actually about to get handed my next one-shot!

Not Mine, No Money, Just Love!

* * *

**Dark Magic At Hogwarts!**

_Death Eater Teaches Students Dark Arts Under Sinistra's Nose!_

_Shacklebolt Orders Inquiry!_

_How to Tell if Your Child Has Been Turned story pg. 4_

_~*^*~_

**Snape Escapes!**

_Weasley Helps Suspect Flee_

_Potter Botches Apprehension After Pressing for Early Release_

_Minister Shacklebolt Outraged_

_~*^*~_

**Scandal at Hogwarts!**

_Mass Student Withdrawal as Scandals and Depravity Rock School story pg. 2_

_Lose Morals, Poor Test Scores Seem to be the Way Sinistra Operates story pg. 3_

_Weasley's Practice Open Marriage! story pg.3_

_Who's the Father? story pg.4_

'_I Sent the Scrolls, Then Saw the Names!' Records Office Clerk Speaks story pg.4_

_~*^*~_

**Harry Potter Suspended Pending Investigation!**

_Minister Shacklebolt Declares Full Confidence in Potter story pg 2_

_Weasley's Go into Hiding! story pg 4_

_Snape Spotted in London, Ipswich and Grimsby Recruiting New Death Eaters story pg 5_

_He Nearly Got Me! One Boy's Story, by Jared Poppleton story pg 6_

_~*^*~_

**HEADMISTRESS SINISTRA FIRED!**

_Term Ends Early as Ministry Interviews New Candidates story pg. 2_

_Parents Threaten Permanent Withdrawal Unless Major Changes Are Made story pg. 3_

_Symptoms of Spotted Clap and Ways to Prevent It story pg 7_

_~*^*~_

**Ministry Announces: Headmaster Neville Longbottom**

"_A Return To Core Values" Says Longbottom_

_Rolanda Hootch to Return; Flitwick, Vector Stay, Sprout Leaves story pg. 3_

_Hermione Snape Hired at St. Mungo's, Chatwurth Faces Down Protests story pg. 7_

~*^*~

**Great Ideas for the Shopping Season!**

_Elegant Charms to Spruce up the Yule Season with Less! story pg.3_

_Ministry Gala Sets the Fashion Scene for the Season! Faux Fur is Très Chic! story pg 4_

_Snape Cleared story pg 13._

_~*^*~_

* * *

Snape was bent over the bubbling cauldron when Mollox popped in and handed a packet to Draco, who was ensconced on a chaise behind him. He waited for Draco to finish reading and then just raised an eyebrow.

"Cousin Bryce wants to know why I have not offered to send him gold for more medicine in weeks," he said waving the parchment. "He knows the vault is open and assumes I have enough gold to spend for my care now. Oh, and he sends his regrets on the death of my parents, etc, etc." Draco crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the floor, where Mollox immediately banished it from sight.

"What will you reply?" Snape prompted.

"Well, I will hardly admit I have no need of him anymore. That would be as good as screaming that you are here and that would pit the French as well as the English Ministries against us. They are rather cooperative with each other these days. It would leave you hiding out here for a long time. As it is, no one knows you're here and you're free to move about. Besides, leaving my cousins in the dark feels good. It's not like they actually care. Let them wonder if I'm dead. It'll be even more satisfying when they see me out strolling on the avenue when I'm healed." Snape grimaced and Draco waved a hand at him. "_If_ I'm healed, then." He looked at his hand and sneered in disgust. "By the way, if my liver is fixed, why am I still yellow?"

"It takes time for the body to complete the process. I told you that. I don't have time to brew more potions for your vanity," Snape replied, turning his back on him.

"Right. So, what's the wife up to? When's the last time you two chatted?" Draco wouldn't admit how much he enjoyed these little updates on the world outside. He refused to subscribe to any papers and professed a total lack of interest, but Snape knew he was happy for his godfather and charmed by their exchanges. Snape also knew that Draco felt guilty, seeing himself as the only obstacle to his godfather's happiness, despite frequent protests that Azkaban would have been a bigger obstacle. And he was annoyingly curious about the Soul Bond.

"She's currently stressed and exhausted. She's been working on the Potion for the Pancreas but has only recently seen any success. She thinks she'll be ready to use it on Blanchers in a day or so. She hasn't answered my morning note yet; she's buried in her research. Macnair died yesterday. She blames herself."

"Bah, tell her it's no loss to the world. The man was a bastard."

"I did, but she gets stubbornly sympathetic in the most annoyingly irrational way."

"Which you enjoy, and don't bother to hide it."

Draco laughed weakly at Snape's scowl. Winky popped in and both men turned to her as she wrung her hands and fretted.

"What is it, elf?" Snape huffed.

"Sir has a visitor. Harry Potter is walking back and forth and shouting out on the road. Winky thought you should know." Mollox popped away immediately and came back and confirmed it. Draco and Snape just stared at each other.

"The mail," Snape said. "He knew your mailing address, he must have put a trace on that letter and followed it here." Snape cast a stasis charm on the potion and turned. "I will deal with him and return."

"Severus--" Draco stretched a hand toward him, full of worry.

"I'll be back," Snape replied and turned and disappeared with a soft crack.

* * *

Harry had been rather pleased with his ingenuity. His tracer charm was virtually undetectable and had led him straight here. Which admittedly was in the middle of nowhere. He had tried stealth and then reconnoitered the area, narrowing down the location by where he didn't seem to be allowed to walk. Besides being secret-kept, he had struggled with certain befuddling wards that kept him walking in any direction but the desired one. And so, he had narrowed down the location of the gate, on this dusty, remote road, but where his footprints _weren't_. Finally, he had resorted to the direct approach: simply shouting, hoping he would be heard and invited in.

The speed with which he found himself stunned, disarmed, bound, and floating upside down over the dirt road shocked him. Granted, it had been a while since he had been in the field and deskwork slowed reflexes, but he'd heard nothing, received no warning. His Auror's intuition had completely failed him. He blushed furiously, as he was spun slowly around until he was facing a very angry Severus Snape. He was grabbed and treated to the utterly nauseating experience of Apparating while upside-down. He didn't recognize the enormous room he was in, but knew the smell of a Potions Lab when he encountered it.

"Why would I have assumed you capable of honor, Potter? Why would I have thought that you, of all people, might have understood?" Before Harry had a chance to speak, a piece of parchment popped out of the air and Snape scowled as he snatched at it and stuffed it in his pocket without looking. "I do hope you weren't foolish enough to tell others where you are, that way you can have a quick obliviate and fuck off back to wherever you came from. If you did, I'm afraid I will have to kill you and bury the body. I'm not going back with you. I have things I need to do." Again Harry saw more parchment appear with a soft pop, and again, Snape scowled at it and snatched it out of the air and stuffed it unread into a pocket.

"Didn't Hermione tell you?" Harry asked. He frowned when he saw several pieces of parchment appear. One of them floated close enough for him to make out the words: 'I MEAN IT!' scrawled angrily across it. He heard movement behind him but couldn't turn to see who it was.

"Perhaps if you let him down? She might see that as a concession and stop?" drawled an amused voice behind him.

Harry was sure the voice was Draco's, but it sounded weak and breathy and much deeper than he remembered. More parchment appeared. Snape started to ignore them.

"What was I supposed to be told, Potter?" he snarled.

"You're free. You were cleared of all charges this morning. I couldn't get in touch with Hermione so I tried to contact you myself. I was rather successful, I might add."

"Rather suicidal, I might amend." Snape flicked his wand and Harry ended up free but slightly sore as he sat on his arse on the floor.

"Yes, well, I was counting on your curiosity," Harry said.

"I don't think that was as much of a help as you might wish, Potter," drawled the voice behind him. Harry turned and saw Draco. He looked terrible. His skin was yellow and he was wasted and frail, but the scornful look in his eye was the same as always.

"Hello Draco, my condolences on your loss." Draco's eyes widened and he nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "I wanted to tell you myself, that very day, but Severus convinced me to let him handle it instead. As you probably would have preferred," he added lamely. He turned back towards Snape who had gone rather still and was watching him like a hawk. "You are cleared to travel as you wish now. I wanted to tell you in person." He handed Snape a packet of official documents. "The Department of Mysteries was able to prove the spell wasn't Dark and further charges, like endangering a minor and resisting arrest, were dropped. Your life is completely your own now."

Snape's only reaction was a slow blink and a murmur of thanks. When another parchment popped into the room, Snape snatched it out of the air before excusing himself and stalking off towards what looked like an office.

"What's with all the paper floating around?" he asked, turning and giving Draco a confused look. Draco gestured to a chair and rearranged the blankets on his legs before he stared at Harry.

"It's Granger. She can feel his emotions through the bond and will create a veritable blizzard if he's upset. It's been great fun. Usually you can't tell what's going through his mind, but he can hardly hide the fact that he's actually upset when he starts getting peppered by parchment."

"She can send him things directly like that? I can't do that with Ginny."

"Well, Granger always was smarter than you. And not to cast aspersions on your marriage, but I don't recall hearing you shared a Soul Bond with the Weaslette."

"Nice try, Draco. But I would much rather skip the insults. We're not in school anymore and I'm too tired, if it's all the same to you."

Draco gave him a look that was hard to interpret but resembled disappointment.

"So how is Granger?" Malfoy inquired. Harry saw concern in the other's face and was surprised. Draco waved a languorous, yellow hand towards the office. "Snape worries, not that he'd admit it. I thought I would do him the favor of asking." He looked at his manicure for a long while before casually adding: "The blizzard is a two-way thing. I've seen him scribble his own notes and send them off when she's upset. However, he suspects she lies about the cause in an effort not to worry him. So tell me, baby Snape is alright?"

Harry smiled and nodded at Winky when she appeared with tea and took his time fixing his cup as he thought about Draco's concern.

"Baby Snape is fine. As far as that goes, everything is normal and healthy. Hermione's exhausted, though. She just doesn't catch a break. Her work is rewarding, but she's thrown herself into it to the point of obsession and has openly admitted to me that as much as she feels for the prisoners and the guards that work there, she's really using the opportunity to hurry her research onto what will help Severus heal you. She's currently working on one of the guards that has the same damage to his pancreas that you do, and has a team assigned to her that are working on developing something for lungs.

"But they're another source of stress. Her team. They don't approve of her. She's been facing terrible antagonism at work. Everyone assumes she willingly got pregnant by a Death Eater while still married. They mutter and stonewall and make her work three times as hard while indulging openly in the most aggravating gossip. Her boss has tried to stifle it repeatedly, but she's basically become a punchbag for everyone else.

"She and Ron are talking about not sending their kids back after the Christmas break because of the dreadful things that are being said. Hugo is suspected of being the next Dark Lord. They get several howlers a day. Rose and Hugo are really starting to feel it. "Ron's doing his best to maintain a happy face, but he's struggling. He's angry that his whole family was in on trying to keep him in the dark. He's pretty hurt and upset and struggling not to take it out on everyone. He's even distanced himself from Lavender, but I don't think that will last. He just feels like they were thrown together and is understandably suspicious of their feelings. Lavender's a smart cookie, if she's patient he'll come back around. I think it's harder because they are all still at the Burrow. God bless Molly, but Hermione and Ron need space away from each other and they won't find it at the Burrow during Christmas. It's crammed to the rafters with people."

Harry realized he had been rambling uncontrollably and stopped suddenly. Draco was looking at him with sympathy in his face but an equal amount of surprise at his outburst. "So, um, yeah. To answer your question, the baby's fine." He turned away in embarrassment and saw Severus standing to the side with clenched fists. It was obvious he had heard every word.

Draco exchanged a long look with his godfather before quietly offering a suggestion. "Fetch them. The children can go to school here." Snape's face betrayed the slightest moment of reaction before falling back into stony resignation.

"She won't pull them away from their father. She says splitting them up would be disastrous."

Draco thought for a minute. "Set him up in the Manor. That way they will only be a floo away."

Snape sighed heavily. "You would do that for me?"

Draco shrugged slightly.

"They both just sit there, Severus. You and I know I might not ever use either of them again. Besides, I'm curious to see what this baby will look like. If she's here when my godson's born I get my answer sooner."

"You're going to be the baby's godfather?" Harry asked with a smile. "That's great!"

Snape just scowled. "Draco makes assumptions. It's his new hobby. Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen." Draco and Harry watched as Snape stalked off to his office. A piece of parchment popped into the air and he snatched it without breaking his stride. After a few moments they heard the soft pop of Apparition.

"I'll make sure the Ministry wards are removed from your property," Harry said.

"Weasley will have to set up new ones," Draco replied. He spread his yellow hands and gestured towards his emaciated frame. "I'm not in any shape to reset them myself. I've willed the properties to Severus, just so you know. If I don't survive the arrangement could still stand.

"Make sure they understand it's a bit of a dump now. It wouldn't do for Weasley to start putting on airs. He'd probably get them on the wrong feet anyway."

Harry laughed. "I doubt Ron even understands why anyone would want to put on airs, Draco. I'll go ahead and thank you for your generosity for them. That would solve a lot of problems and give them the distance and closeness they badly need."

Draco just nodded and then looked away, obviously done with being generous.

"Do me a favor, Potter, and hand me those notes on the floor. Reading them is my only amusement; the poor man is shockingly henpecked and utterly adores every minute of it. I dream of reading some from his side one day."

Harry laughed.

* * *

Hermione was on the verge of walking away from it all. Her research was a mixed bag of successes and failures and the constant tension in the workplace made it hard to find the peace needed to concentrate. She was so close in her research; the latest test on pancreatic tissue had been successful, but only to a point. The pancreas contained so many important structures and she and Vibi had basically admitted that they would have to create target-specific potions for each function rather than the whole organ. However, she was pretty sure the area she had gained strides in was the function affected in Draco. Blanchers would have to wait longer.

"Mr. Ochs, could you run this report to Mr. Chatwurth and wait for his reply?"

"Yes, Madam Snape. I'll do that right away, Madam Snape. We wouldn't want to stress those swollen ankles, after all, would we?"

Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten. It was an ever-increasing struggle to not lose her composure. She didn't know in that moment whether she would start to cry or start to hex people. She felt tears prickle behind her closed eyes but then gasped as she was filled with the sudden sense of being whole. It was a feeling she had missed dearly this long month. She heard a frightened squeak and opened her eyes.

Mr. Ochs was standing at the door trembling. Severus blocked the exit and simply stood and stared at the little toad, radiating menace.

"Severus! What are you doing here?" She flew across the room and nearly barreled Ochs over to get at her mate.

Severus gathered her protectively into his arms without taking his eyes off the intern. Only a fool would have misread the statement in his actions. He moved to the side just enough to let the poor man slip by as if greased before bending his head and kissing his wife. What was intended to be a gentle greeting turned heated. He kissed her with a fierce intensity that left her weak in the knees. The pleasure they experienced seemed to fold in on itself and expand exponentially. Finally, he pulled away. Gentle kisses in public were not a good idea. Not that she had a shred of reputation left with anyone except Chatwurth and Slughorn.

"Isn't it foolish to be here?" She didn't sense any risk from him, just an intense satisfaction bordering on smugness.

"I'm free, wife. If you took the time to come up for air you would have read this morning's papers. Well, only if you had made it through the drivel to page thirteen."

"Free?" She blinked several times. "You're free? It's over?" When he only nodded in response, she began to cry. His face dissolved into horror and she realized she was probably making him feel like crying as well. She wrestled for control and just snuffled into his robes until she could breathe correctly. "This bond is a little ridiculous, but the good news is: research seems to show that when we finally get a chance to spend time together it will settle down," she assured him. "Of course the bad news is: it's still muted by the pregnancy, so there's that.

"Then gather what you need here to finish the potion elsewhere and we will spend…time…together," he drawled into her ear.

"I can't. I can't leave yet. I have so much to do and I'm so close and besides, I'm under contract." Severus lifted up his hand and started ticking off her points on his long fingers.

"You can. You will. I didn't say you had to stop. And you're not any longer. Really Granger, I expected you to be better at fine print. Now gather your things. Everything."

"Where are we going?"

"To the Burrow first, I have some things to discuss with you and Weasley."

* * *

Vibius Chatwurth, Head of the Department of Medicinal Brewing

14 Diagon Alley, Fourth Floor

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

London, England

23rd December

Chatwurth,

I am exceedingly disappointed in you. I am sure you are aware that your staff have nullified and voided your existing contract with H. Granger-Snape née Weasley. If not, pay particular attention to Section III, Article 26, under the heading: Hostile Work Environments. Since I gave you ample opportunity to amend the situation, I see no need to give you notice of her immediate employment with me. You will find her and all of her notes and working tests gone when you receive this.

I am aware that there were some extenuating circumstances and that you did make a futile effort to rectify the situation. Therefore, I will allow you access to her future research and allow the theorist in question to continue her work with you if she so desires. However, it will be in my labs and under my jurisdiction and therefore you will need to renegotiate terms for her work. Any further work of hers with you will be as a contracted Theorist/Brewer. Be advised, I have every intention of educating her as far as the value of her work, so be prepared to pay handsomely.

Sincerely,

Simon Shilling

Master Brewer

Head of Research and Development

Lunardra and Shilling, Ltd.

Bois du Rouquan, Fr.

* * *

Multney Ochs watched as Mr. Chatwurth raced down the hallway towards the lab. He managed to look light on his feet as he hurried his bulk towards the door clutching a letter. He turned towards Mai Snookey and shouted: "Tell me Hermione is still in her office!"

"I assume so, no one has gone in there since her Death Eater showed up," she replied.

Multney and the three others around him laughed derisively but quieted down when they saw the murderous expression on their boss's face. They watched with slight apprehension as Chatwurth threw open the door to the lab and groaned. Ochs and the others crowded up in the doorway wondering if the madman she was married to had attacked her. What they saw shocked them far more. The lab was empty. The open door to her office beyond showed that it, too, was barren. Chatwurth slumped against the door frame. After a moment, he raised himself up and started pointing at each of the five assistants in turn, repeating: "You're fired. You're fired. You're fired…"

"But why?" cried Mai for all of them.

"First: for being bastards, each and every one of you. Second: for being shockingly unprofessional. Don't expect a reference, any of you. Third: I will need all of your salaries to pay for her work, now that she will be a private contractor and not an employee, do you understand? You drove off the best researcher I've seen in over twenty years. Now get out of my sight, the lot of you."

* * *

Severus Snape was sitting in his office reading through some notes when he was disturbed by a sound at the door. He looked up and quickly removed his reading glasses.

"May I help you Hugo?"

"I just wanted to give you this." The boy walked over and handed him a card and a box wrapped with green paper. Snape just looked at it as if they were poisonous.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it's your birthday."

"And I suppose I have to accept it because of this 'friend' thing of yours?"

"No. You have to accept it because of this 'Step-father' thing of yours," Hugo shot back. Snape quirked his lips but the smile was quickly removed. He reached out a cautious hand and opened the card and read it.

"Thank you, Hugo. I believe the proper expression is: It's lovely."

"You really are dreadful at this aren't you?" the boy said with a satisfying amount of exasperation. Snape would never admit how much he enjoyed making the boy act like his mother.

"Indeed," he said. Hugo pushed the present closer to him impatiently.

"I hope you like it. Mum gave me the idea and Grandma Granger helped me get it." Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise and he couldn't help but feel a noticeable amount of curiosity that _almost_ crossed the line into excitement. He picked up the light box and shook it.

"Don't! What are you doing? You don't shake presents! Are you daft?"

Snape couldn't suppress the smile on his face at the boy's reaction. Rather than prolong the agony, he went ahead and opened it. When he saw his present he went still and blinked several times, slightly overwhelmed.

"Thank you Hugo. It's the perfect present. Would you like to share it with me?"

"I would indeed!"

Snape called Winky and ordered tea while Hugo pulled up a chair. Snape transformed a book into a plate and opened the present. When the tea arrived, he placed the plate of Jammie Dodgers in front of the boy.

"After you."

"Thank you."

They sat and enjoyed their biscuits and tea in silence until Rose ran into the room and gave a disappointed shout.

"I'm too late! Drat. Well, here you go, then. Open this and enjoy it next time." she tossed her present, wrapped in the same green paper, at Snape and he caught it deftly, with the raise of a surprised eyebrow. If one wasn't supposed to shake presents, it was fair to assume one wasn't supposed to throw them either. She grabbed the other chair and lugged it up to the desk. "Happy Birthday, Severus," she said.

"Thank you Rose. May I pour you some tea?"

"Please." He did so, and pushed the plate of biscuits toward the girl before opening her present. It was a large tin of Lapsang Souchong tea.

"Again, thank you, Rose, this will be very much appreciated. I will make sure to share it with you as well. Thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"No problem. I overheard Mum giving Hugo ideas and it didn't take a genius to see he would hone in on the biscuits so I went for the tea."

She gobbled up another biscuit and Snape found himself counting how many were left.

"How are your studies going?" Snape inquired.

"Great," replied Hugo enthusiastically. "I really like the schoolmaster Mr. Malfoy hired. He's very smart."

"In some areas," Rose added. "He doesn't know anything about dueling or Defense. Well, he knows some, but I already know more and Mum and Dad won't let me learn any more until next year." She gave Snape a sharp look. "You used to teach Defense. I bet you could teach me loads."

"If you think I am going to go against your parents' expressed wishes, think again, young lady."

Rose slumped in her chair. "Well, what about a duel sometime? You don't have to teach me anything thing, just help keep my skills sharp, so to speak."

Snape gave her a penetrating stare and then flicked his wand. A bookend flew over from the shelf. It was a large geode. A tap of his wand and it turned into a large rubber ball. He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a long, sharp knife. He placed that down on the desk next to the ball.

"If I was to offer to go outside and play catch with you, which of these two do you think you would enjoy catching more, and which of these do you think I would choose?"

Rose scrunched up her face and sighed in defeat. Snape swept the blade back into his drawer and sent the geode back to the shelf.

"Ask me again when you are ready to catch the knife, young lady. Until then, let your parents guide your limits."

Another sound at the door had them all turning.

"What? Tea and biscuits and no one invited me?" said Draco with incredulity. Hugo stood up and offered the man his chair. Draco's color had much improved but his lungs were still weak and his health, although no longer dire, was still in decline. He walked slowly to the chair Hugo had offered, his father's walking stick no longer an affectation, but a necessity. Snape ordered more tea, handing Winky his second gift and after a moment another chair arrived in the room with a soft pop.

"You didn't come bearing gifts, or you would have been invited," Rose shot back.

"I gave you trolls my houses, what more do you want?" said Draco, grabbing up a handful of Jammie Dodgers.

"Not for us, for Severus. It's his birthday," Hugo said once he was seated.

"Hah! I happen to know he hates gifts, so my lack of gift is the better gift."

"He liked our gifts!" cried Rose. She looked at Snape for confirmation and he grimaced but nodded. He'd never been in a position of having people argue over who had given him a better gift before. It was most disconcerting. Rose looked mollified and muttered at him. "I bet I could catch a knife _he_ threw, the tosser."

"Throwing knives?" Draco asked. "Are we talking about dueling? Did you give her the ball and the knife speech Snape? I'll have you know, pumpkin hair, that I could take you down with one lung tied behind my back." Draco gave a dignified sniff and grabbed up another biscuit.

"And her father would then come and kill you six different colors of dead," Snape put in.

"Only if he made me do much running. If I'm allowed to stay seated I could take him." Rose and Hugo laughed at that but Snape was too busy watching hands take away his Jammie Dodgers.

Draco asked after their studies as well and the three of them got into a detailed discussion on their topics. Snape had had quite enough of being social and was no longer listening, but trying to find ways to get rid of them all when Hermione showed up in the doorway carrying her satchel stuffed full of notes.

"Severus, I need to go over these notes on vector targets for spleens," she said. Draco and the children all groaned. They knew the impromptu party was over, unless they wanted to be subject to detailed descriptions of varying stages of organ failure and the possible side effects of various treatments. Only Hugo ever managed to last, but after thirty minutes he usually gave up as well. The trio stood, each grabbing a last biscuit until there was only one left. With many wishes of Happy Birthday, they eventually vanished.

Snape poured tea into a freshly _Tergeoed_ cup and mournfully pushed the plate with the last biscuit towards his wife. They looked up as Hugo slipped back into the room. He made his way straight to Snape and pulled something out of his robes.

"Hide these in your desk," he said. With that, he turned and left. Snape looked down at the pristine packet of Jammie Dodgers and quirked a twitch of a smile.

"So," said Hermione. "Did you enjoy your birthday party, such as it was?"

"Indeed, it was more than I've ever had and almost more than I could handle."

"I know. But they meant well, it was important to them. They like you Severus, they just wanted to show you that."

"Did you really want to discuss spleens?" He asked to change the subject.

"No, I wanted to chase them off when I felt you at your limit. And to give you one or two more gifts."

"Unless they involve you and nudity, I'm not interested. I think I've had enough birthday for one year."

"You got nudity this morning, don't be greedy. I have a gift that came yesterday from Harry and then a small one from me. Which would you like first?"

"Potter's. That way if I don't like it yours will make up for it. And if I don't like yours then I can demand more nudity."

"Alright, but I warn you, my ankles ache, my lower back is sore and my hemorrhoids are acting up, so you will have to be quick, full of sincere compliments, and you will have to do all the work."

"I resent that. When have I ever given you an insincere compliment?"

"Probably never, but my hormones are making me feel like weeping and I can't see what you find appealing in a bloated cow. Thus, the questioning of sincerity."

Snape stood up and walked around the desk and put his arms around his wife.

"Don't believe those whispers. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on and I know for a fact you can feel how sincere I am."

She laid her head against his stomach and he pulled her close, stroking her hair. They stayed like that, soaking up the love and adoration that they shared and returning it, magnified. Eventually, Hermione pulled back and snatched up her satchel. She scooped out the parchment scrolls on top and lifted out a wrapped gift with an attached card.

"Harry's" she said.

Snape sat in the chair next to her and read the card. "Merlin's tits!" he said and quickly ripped off the wrapping from the gift. When he saw his suspicion was confirmed he pulled out his wand and tapped the gift, enlarging it to its original size.

"Hello, Phineas," he drawled to the portrait. "Welcome to your new home."

"Hello, Severus. And may I convey the sincere best wishes of Minerva and Albus for a most Happy Birthday. Now where is your wife?"

Hermione let out a peel of laughter and Snape turned the portrait he was holding to face her. Pleasantries were exchanged and finally Winky was called and asked to take the portrait and hang it in the sitting room upstairs.

"How lovely to see him!" chirped Hermione. "I really have missed him!" Snape tried not to roll his eyes, futile since she could sense his exasperation.

"And he has missed you, since he has apparently driven the Potters to distraction with inquiries about our welfare. Thus the new home. Now, wife, you look tired and I think a nap is in order."

"Wait, one more gift," she said. She took a small box from her satchel and handed it to him. He raised one eyebrow and took it, carefully removing the silver paper. When he opened it he blinked and looked at her. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the feelings she was radiating and he found himself blinking rapidly. It was a wedding ring. She reached out and took it, and lifting up his hand, slid it onto his finger.

"I, Hermione, take you, Severus, to be my Lover, my Protector and my Bonded Husband, for all of my days and all of my nights." She rubbed at his hand, admiring how the platinum band looked on his nimble fingers. "I thought it was best to mark you as mine, so the other witches would know you were off the playing field," she said with a sniff. Snape held tightly onto her hand as he shot up out of the chair and threw himself across his desk, fumbling with a drawer until he pulled out his own ring box.

He handed it to her and knew he couldn't stop his face from reflecting the sudden insecurity. Would she like it? It was gold, set with amber. Were they supposed to match? He was in the middle of vowing to replace it with whatever she would wish for, when the waves of emotion that engulfed him told him the truth, and he collapsed with relief into the chair. He took the ring and gently gathered her hand up into his.

"I, Severus, take you, Hermione, to be my Lover, my Protector and my Bonded Wife, for all of my days and all of my nights and every moment in between." He gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply when she had filled his lap. He scooped her up, no longer the effortless task, but still far from burdensome and brought her over to his camp bed. A locking spell, a silencing spell and a handy bit of transfiguration and he carefully made love to his wife on a spacious bed full of eiderdown featherbeds and sinful pillows. He paid particular attention to her ego. Eventually, they got that nap.

* * *

Snape leaned over his godson and cast another diagnostic charm, jotting down notes for the runes that appeared. The harsh spring winds howled outside the window, stirring the drapes, as they found small cracks and chinks in the stone. Snape ignored the fact that he was exhausted; taking comfort in the fact that Hermione had finally sought rest on the camp bed in the office. He flicked his wand to cancel the charm and then immediately cast another one.

"Severus, there is no need. Go and join your wife. You are half dead on your feet. I will call you if there are any changes."

"Changes can come at any moment, Poppy."

"I am aware of that, Severus," said the Hogwarts nurse. "You have done everything that can be done. If something goes wrong, I'm the one that can help, not you. Go get some sleep. Hermione's figures show that we won't see any shift for hours yet."

Snape looked down on Draco, so vulnerable looking in the medical bed they had moved into the lab.

"We should have waited. We should have run more tests. There are still too many variables. His lungs could liquefy and he could drown at any moment. This was foolish."

Madam Pomfrey put her hand on Severus's arm as he cast another diagnostic spell, stopping him. She weathered his angry glare with aplomb.

"There was no more time, Severus. We might lose him tonight, but we know we would definitely have lost him in another week. Draco knew this. It was his risk to take."

Snape sat down hard in the chair next to the bed. He felt heavy. His heart was heavy, his soul felt heavy and his conscience was a terrible burden. Lucius had been a friend once, long ago. Narcissa had been his lover briefly, when Lucius had betrayed them both in his quest for power. In the end, there had only been Draco. The first baby he had ever held. The first nappy he had ever changed. And the first child he had placed all his hopes in that had taught him a new level of disappointment. He had struggled to be an influence on the arrogant boy who constantly seemed to strive for the worst aspects of both of his selfish parents, and yet always retained enough of the best to keep Severus from turning his face away from the boy for good. The death of Dumbledore had burned away the last traces of foolishness in the boy. He had been hardened into a man through the worst possible fires. Snape had spent the first four years in Azkaban protecting him. They had been locked up together as the only Death Eaters to not have a life sentence. As a fey looking, beautiful, young man, Draco had been a victim waiting to happen. Snape had always made sure that the boy had never been alone, and when trouble came calling, Snape had made sure he was the squeaky wheel that drew attention, sparing the young man what he could. He took the beatings to ensure Draco remained untouched. By the time Draco had been moved to a different cell, he was harder. His skin was thicker. And when they saw each other on rare occasions, Draco still held his head up. That was until the wards had started to eat away at him.

Draco's release had been a shining moment in Snape's life at that point. But when the lad had come to pay his respects before he left, Snape had seen the specter that hung over him like a cloud and knew the clock was ticking. Now as he watched over his godson, it was as if he could hear the ticking hands slowing down incrementally. He was terrified. If he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he might miss the moment when they stopped completely.

He cast his charms again, desperate for some sign.

*

Hours passed and Poppy bustled through the lab with her usual efficient aplomb. She had been there for two days and it had taken her no time at all to stake out what would be considered her territory. The man on the bed looked nearly blue as the lack of oxygen neared critical stages. She had cast several modified stasis charms to slow most of his functions down while leaving the lungs to work to the best of their ability. This potion had admittedly been rushed and although Hermione and Severus had worked at the top of their abilities, it was still, barely tested and incredibly risky. However, Poppy had confirmed Hermione's assessment when she had first arrived. Mr. Malfoy was in decline and unlikely to live much longer. Her assurances had not helped placate the man sitting in the chair by the bed, shifting uncomfortably.

Poppy had felt compelled to come in response to his owl. Neither of them had ever been good with words when it came to such things, so she hoped her quick reply had conveyed what she wanted him to understand. His cordial attitude had quickly given way to their old working relationship from before such times as the world had twisted on its axis and everything turned grey. Now, as she watched him shift and twist, she began to feel concern.

"Severus, at least cast a cushioning charm, you're obviously uncomfortable. You'll cripple yourself in that hard chair."

Snape just gave her a bleary-eyed stare.

"It's not the chair, I can't seem to get comfortable even when I stand. It's the tension."

"No headache? You always took your tension out on your poor head. Do you want a potion?"

"I'm fine. It's just a slight twinge," he replied with a gesture to the bed. She cast the diagnostic charm again; he had agreed to let her do that, to conserve his magic since he was so near to collapse.

As they both studied the runes, they heard footsteps. Poppy turned around and saw Harry and Ginny Potter enter the lab. Snape looked surprised and irritated at the unwelcome intrusion.

"Now is not the time for social visits Potter, I will thank you to turn around and go back the way you came."

"We thought you might need some help. We came to see if there was anything we could do," Harry replied.

"There's nothing. The children are at the Manor with their father if you want to go visit them. Hermione is sleeping. She needs her rest and I will not allow you to disturb her."

"I'll just go check on her," said Ginny and she wandered off towards the office, ignoring Snape's threats of disembowelment.

"How is he?" Harry asked. Snape didn't answer; his head was pivoting constantly between Draco and the office door that Ginny had closed.

"So far so good," answered Poppy. "He's not out of the woods, by any means, but he's hitting all his markers. We are waiting for evidence that the changes have started. Once that starts then the tissue regeneration should be swift."

"And that could happen at any time?"

"It should have started a couple of hours ago, but we have him in a partial stasis so that might have slowed the process down. I'm not worried yet, the indicators are still very good."

Harry and Poppy chatted about the process for a while until they were rudely interrupted by Snape.

"Potter, how did your wife know Hermione was sleeping in the office when our bedroom is upstairs?"

Poppy turned and looked at Harry, surprised by what seemed to be an unusual question. Harry paused just a moment too long in his answer. Poppy had dealt with enough students to know a lie was forthcoming.

"You two always nap in the office when you are working on something involved."

Snape stood up so quickly he knocked over the chair he had been sitting in.

"She's blocking me! She's fucking blocked the bond! I thought she was asleep all this time!"

Harry foolishly jumped in front of Snape to stop him as he rushed towards the office.

"Severus don't! She wanted you to stay with Draco! Poppy said he could shift at any moment."

Snape swatted him away like a gnat and the two of them scuffled until Harry had broken glasses and Snape was in a full body bind.

Harry stood in front of him and huffed for breath as he cast a quick _Reparo_ that left his glasses sitting slightly askew on his face.

"Now, are you going to listen to me? She's not blocking you, the labor is. Yes, she's early. Three weeks early. That is not the end of the world. She sent Winky to get us and explained that you were in the middle of a delicate stage and should be left undisturbed. This could take hours, even a day. But she's already exhausted and she needs you running in there like a mad bull like she needs a hole in her head. I'm going to release you, you are going to go in there, reassure her, and then you are going to go back to Draco, so Poppy can check her over, you got it? If not, I will hex you and you can spend the day stuck to the ceiling where you will do the most good. Trust me, I've been through this, there's nothing you can do but worry and they hate that."

Harry released the body bind and jumped back as Snape came at him.

"If you ever do that again, I will kill you, Potter."

"Only if you get the jump on me Snape, I'm not a little boy anymore. Now try to pretend you're rational and go see your wife."

*

Snape entered his office just as Ginny was pulling a light cotton nightgown down over Hermione's swollen belly. The bed had been stripped down to the sheets but all of the pillows were jammed up behind her back. Winky was patting at her hair and murmuring softly. She turned her head and saw him and his heart stopped at the pain in her eyes. She had dark circles already and looked pale and exhausted.

"I thought you were sleeping," he said stupidly. "When did it start?"

"When I told you I was going to lie down."

"That was seven hours ago, you only called the Potters now? Poppy was just outside the door! _I_ was right outside the door." He couldn't stop the hurt in his voice.

"I didn't want to make things worse until he passed the crisis point."

He walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

"You idiot woman. What did you think I would do?"

"Worry even more." She lifted a hand and stroked her knuckles down his face. "It will be a while yet, Severus. I'm not just saying that to be brave."

He placed his hands on her belly and felt how tight and hard it was.

"I can't feel you," he said in a small voice.

"I know. I think it's better this way; I'm not sure you would want to share the labor." Ginny snorted and Snape glared at her.

"I would share anything with you, Hermione."

She stiffened and her hand clamped down on his. He started to rock gently, unaware of what he was doing but trying to relieve the slight discomfort in his back. He crooned to her while she blew out breaths until she slumped back on the pillows. Snape was confused by the quick exchange with Ginny that followed. It sounded like some secret code but he was assured they were just timing contractions and rating the strength.

"Can I get you anything? For the pain?" he asked.

"Not yet, there are charms we will use later. Severus?"

"Yes, Love?"

"Our bond is blocked."

He gave her an unhappy scowl. "And?"

"I still love you. Even without it."

Severus smiled deeply and leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"As I love you. I never needed it, woman."

She nuzzled her head along his cheek.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Can you get Poppy now?"

He didn't even reply, just launched himself up and out the door. "Poppy! Poppy she needs you! It's Hermione! She's having a baby!"

He stopped short when he saw the amused expression on the nurse's face. He hated that look.

"I think I figured that much out already, Severus. It's time to recast the charm, keep an eye on this patient, I will go check out the other."

The nurse walked off, muttering about overachievers and people who make their lives unnecessarily complicated. Snape ignored her and cast the diagnostic charm on Draco.

"Is there something I can do? Notes to take?" Snape turned and saw Potter. He had completely forgotten about him. He flicked his wand and straightened Potter's glasses.

"Do you know how to perform a level four diagnostic charm?"

"No, but I am a fast learner."

"Really? That must have started after you left school. Why don't you go and notify the children about their mother. I will teach it to you when you get back and we will see how quick a study you are." Harry nodded and turned to run to the mansion and use the floo. "Potter?" He stopped and turned back. "Thank you." Harry smiled and nodded before hurrying out of the room. Snape cast the charm again.

*

Harry was back and practicing the charm on Winky when Snape stiffened and called for the nurse.

"What is it, Severus?" she asked as she hurried to the bed and began casting her own charm.

"His oxygen levels have dipped, he's close to brain damage if they don't come back this instant." Snape sounded calm. He felt terrified. The fact that his wife didn't share this feeling was of no comfort. He felt completely alone again.

"Doesn't that mean the crisis point?" asked Harry. No one answered him. Pomfrey busied herself casting a frenzy of charms and spells while Snape just watched.

Agonizing minutes went by as Snape kept up the constant charm and watched the runes that showed his brain activity as well as his oxygen levels fluttering up and down. Finally, they spiked upwards and Poppy let out a hearty sigh.

"It's working. The tissue is accepting the transformation. He's in the clear." She turned and gripped Severus's arm. "You and your wife saved his life, Severus. I'm so proud of you."

Snape just stared down at the man on the bed. He offered no response. He could think of nothing to say. He was suddenly too tired to say or do anything. A rolling ache gripped his stomach and raced around to his back. He turned towards the door to his office and took a step in that direction.

"Go and get some sleep, Severus. Hermione has hours to go yet," said the nurse.

Snape just looked at her and blinked, willing her words to make sense. His scattered thoughts where interrupted by Ginny, who had showed up in the office doorway.

"Poppy! Come quickly! Looks like the baby's crowning already!"

The nurse let out a stream of colorful, yet polite, curses as she grabbed up her skirts and ran. He stood there, frozen until he heard his wife let out a wail that set his feet moving. He raced towards the office and almost pushed the nurse over on his way.

"Potter, cast that charm every three minutes!" he yelled behind him.

Hermione was covered in sweat and crying when he saw her, she was propped up against the mountain of pillows and Ginny was casting cleansing charms between her bent knees.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" he shouted. Hermione's head turned at the sound of his voice and when she saw him she raised both hands to him as if she were a child wanting to be picked up.

"Nothing's wrong, your son's just a little impatient, that's all," Ginny answered.

Snape took each of his wife's hands in one of his and held her in place as he lifted one of his long legs and kicked out the pillows behind her, sliding down and taking their place with a leg braced on the floor either side. Her fingers bit into his as the next contraction wracked her body and she howled.

"You said there were charms! Why is she in pain?"

"We didn't get a chance to use them!" snapped Ginny. "Breathe, Mi, you've done this before, breathe."

"Well, you can bloody well use them now, can't you?"

Madam Pomfrey was in position, having cleansed her hands both with a charm and by pouring alcohol on them.

"There's no time, Severus," she said calmly. "Please stop shouting you will scare your son." As irrational as that statement seemed, it worked. Snape switched to murmuring soothing words into his wife's ear as she leaned all her weight against him. "Alright, my dear? Just give us a big push when you're ready…and….oh..good, that's the spirit!"

Severus closed his eyes and willed the baby out as Hermione screamed and Ginny encouraged her and Poppy coached her. After the contraction, she slumped against him bonelessly, gasping for breath and crying softly. She mewled a sad little: "I can't" and he returned a quiet: "You can, you have done, and you will."

"And another, Hermione? Come on then, let's make it count. Big push to start with, girl. Keep it going! Alright, stop! Little push, little push…just pant the head out. That's it!... Well done! Ginny hand me that, yes, that, there we go, all ready for his big entrance. Oh, hold on, Hermione. He's wearing his cord as scarf, silly beggar; let's just slip that free. There we go, all done. One more push when you're ready, and…now! That's it! That's it…and…there we are! Hello little man! Welcome!"

Hermione's screams turned into hysterical sobs and Snape just held her close as the nurse placed the baby on his mother's belly. Snape was more than a little frightened. It was, without a doubt, the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Hermione's cries of joy and Ginny's cooing at the infant's adorableness did nothing to enamor him to the purplish, slime-covered bit of puckered flesh that had just put his wife through that. However, it was apparent that she was pleased with it, so he would be too. Perhaps it would look better after a bath and a few meals.

Snape settled himself against the pillows that were left on the bed and rubbed his wife's arms and nodded at all the right times. He had no idea at what point he fell asleep.

*

* * *

Headmaster Longbottom looked around at the crowd from the safety of his desk. Most of the people had ginger hair. In fact, every Weasley adult and child was packed in, with the exception of Rose and Hugo who had returned to France. Ron and Lavender were there though, as well as almost a dozen more people that were close friends but not relations.

Everyone's eyes were on the empty portrait frame. Finally, accompanied by an excited chatter and just as many calls for silence, Phineas Nigellus Black appeared. He took his time settling into the frame, adjusting the sleeves of his robes until even Neville chided him. With a slow smile, former Headmaster Black gave them the news they had all been waiting for.

"Bald. He just looks like a sleeping baby. There is no noticeable resemblance to anyone but Hermione at this point.

There was a cry of disbelief and shouted queries about the baby's nose until Molly called out: "Don't be absurd, not even Severus was born with that nose!"

"Phineas," interrupted Minerva. "How is Hermione?"

"Mother and child are doing well, and the father has collapsed from exhaustion."

"And Draco?" asked Albus.

"He's sleeping peacefully, the potion seems to have been a success."

Finally Neville called them all to order.

"Alright everyone, who had their money on bald?"

Luna Scamander just smiled her best vague smile and stuck out her hand. "Pay up."

George thumped Ron on the back. "Well, we'll just have to wait longer, eh? And you still have a fifty-fifty chance with your next one." Ron gave a pained smile as George turned back towards the room. "Who wants to go to the Three Broomsticks and celebrate baby Snape?"

"Phineas," interrupted Albus. "What's the lad's name?"

"Thaddeus," answered Black. "Thaddeus Granger Snape. Six pounds, four ounces, and nineteen and a half inches long. His head circumference registered at--"

"Right! Let's go raise one to Thaddeus!" shouted George.

* * *

Thank you to all my readers who hung on through thick and thin while my crazy Soap Opera played to its dramatic conclusion! I love you all and do this for you!

**Next Up:** A Snapshot of Snapes, Four Years Later...


	23. Epilogue

Ladies, and Gentlemen, the Captain asks you to stay in your seats until the plane has come to a complete stop. Use caution when opening the overhead compartments, as some luggage may have gone crazy during flight. We want you to know that neither the Captain, nor myself made any money off of this flight.

* * *

*

_Four Years Later…_

Severus Snape sat out on the front porch of his house enjoying the afternoon sun and the potions journal in his lap. It was late Autumn, milder in these parts, but chilly enough to cast warming charms every so often. He was rereading his wife's latest article in _Ars Alchemica_, not that he hadn't been there each and every step of the way as she wrote it, but seeing her work in print never got old. Nor did scribbling notes in the margins to annoy her when she found them later. He stretched out a long leg and crossed it over the other, checking the shine on his dragon hide boot as he did so. A gentle breeze blew a strand of lank, black hair into his face, and it caught on his large, sharp nose. He lifted an elegant hand and pulled it away.

Beside him, in a much smaller chair, Thaddeus Snape sat reading the magical pop-up book about clowns that had been given to him recently by his godfather, Draco. The boy stretched out a short leg and crossed it over the other, checking the shine on his little dragon hide boots and straightening the little black buttons at his trouser cuff. Another gentle breeze blew his long, lank, ginger hair into his face and it tickled his tiny freckled nose. He raised his incredibly pale hand up and pulled it out of his way. He turned and looked at his father with coal-black eyes.

"Ces clowns sont incroyablement idiots, Papa"

"Oui, je l'ai toujours pensé aussi", came the reply.

"Ne le dis pas à parrain mais il doit penser que je suis stupide."

"Draco doesn't think you are stupid, Thaddeus. He just wants you to have everything, and when he was a child he liked clowns."

"He must have been a very strange child, Papa."

"You have no idea," Snape replied. "Your Uncle Ron will be here soon to take you to the bonfire. You know what to do."

"Oui, Papa."

Snape watched out of the corner of his eye as his son carefully closed his book and shut his eyes. After a few moments the boy's hair started to turn black and lengthened down to his shoulders. Snape smirked as the freckles disappeared, and his nose started to grow into a smaller, yet still prodigious copy of his own. He turned and gave his father a questioning look, his eyes dancing with mischief. Snape gave him a proud nod.

There was a shout from up the slope. Ron had appeared and beside him his youngest son jumped up and down and waved.

"Reynaldo!" Thaddeus shouted as he jumped up and ran to his brother. There had been a bit of debate on just how to term the two boys, but they had decided the issue themselves. They were brothers as far as they were concerned. If anyone doubted, well, they both had the ability to make themselves look identical on demand. Snape smirked again as he saw Reynaldo's wheat-blonde hair start to turn black and heard Weasley's exaggerated groan.

Snape stood up, and with a wave to Weasley, went inside where he found Hugo and Rose. They had never returned to Hogwarts, preferring to continue their education under private tutors. Hugo had grown into a tall, handsome boy who looked to be serious about a future in Potions. Rose was quite a beauty, even if she'd only recently realized that fact. She had taken a few days off from her training to be an Auror with her Uncle Harry.

"Severus! Think fast!" He barely turned his head as he plucked the thrown knife out of the air.

"Not in the house, young lady. You've been told that too many times. Your father is here. Gather your things." Snape reached down and picked up the small suitcase he had packed that morning for his son. "Hugo, do you have the shopping list?"

"What list? How hard is it to remember Jammie Dodgers and tea?"

"Obviously it is a little more difficult to remember books."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot you wanted the Cat in the Hat books!"

"Not just the--"

"Right, all of them by Seuss. I won't forget. Again, that is."

"Thank you. And Rose, did you remember to remove the pastries from your sock drawer before you mother finds them this time?"

"Damn!" She raced out of the room just as Ron appeared in the doorway with the smaller boys. Hugo let out a guffaw at the sight of the two mini-Snapes. Thaddeus was a perfect copy, but Reynaldo was still too cute to call a success.

"You did this to drive me nuts, didn't you Snape? Admit it. You actually do have a sense of humor!"

Snape handed him the boy's overnight bag. "Practical jokes can hardly be blamed on _my_ genes, Weasley. How is Miss Brown?"

"She's lovely, thanks. We've been thinking of making it all official next spring sometime."

"You said that last year, pardon me if I don't hold my breath for the invitation," Snape said, as he leaned down and changed the parting in Reynaldo's hair with a quick flick of his fingers. He gave the boy a pleased nod and watched as the two metamorphmagi danced around in excitement. "I read that your team is doing well this season. That must make you happy."

"Yeah, I think Braddock is going to keep his clean sheet next week. He's been training hard, but he's on his own until after the Christmas break. Estella agreed to let me keep Rey that long." An unspoken understanding passed between the two men. Estella had a new man and seemed to have lost interest in her son. Weasley was planning on going for primary custody. Draco had been tailing her and keeping records of her increasingly scandalous behavior. It had taken time to build up a case and the odds still didn't look in their favor because of the circumstances involved in Reynaldo's conception. If he could get the woman to agree to relinquish primary custody on her own, it would be a lot easier on the boy.

He nodded to Ron in understanding and then turned to Hugo and Rose, who had returned from her impromptu house cleaning and was hugging her father while brushing crumbs from her mouth. "Behave yourselves. Watch your brother, and don't come back until tomorrow afternoon on pain of death." Hugo took the suitcase from his dad and shrank it down and stuffed it in his robes.

Thaddeus broke away and ran over and threw his arms around his father's legs.

"Je t'aime, Papa." Snape leaned down and kissed the top of his son's head.

"Je t'aime aussi, Thaddeus. J'aime ton nez. Gardes-le jusqu'à demain." Hugo snorted and Rose let out a giggle.

"What did he just tell him?" asked Ron. "He told him to keep that nose didn't he?" Thaddeus just gave Ron a blank look and then raised one eyebrow. Ron shuddered exaggeratedly and then scooped the boy up. "Come on, you. Let's go creep out your Uncle George." He scooped up his son Reynaldo with his other arm, and the boys squealed and giggled. "Can you make your skin a little sicklier? Sort of greenish? Oh, that's brilliant! What about you, Rey? Oh lovely. Now for nose hair. Can you fellas make it look like you have bug legs coming out of your nose? Oh, that's just perfect!"

Snape scowled after him, but leaned down as Rose pecked him on the cheek.

"You did ask for that, you know," she said with a laugh. "Have a nice weekend."

She scampered out the door and ran after her father. Hugo patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Tell Mum congratulations, Severus," he said.

"I shall. Enjoy yourself, Hugo," Snape replied, squeezing his stepson on the shoulder. He watched them until they were all inside the mansion where they would Floo back to England and partake in the silly Guy Fawkes nonsense that had indeed turned into a Weasley tradition. Sans deadly Quidditch games.

Snape closed the door and headed to the kitchen.

"Winky!"

"What can Winky do for the sir?"

"Do you have everything you need for the dinner I asked for?"

"Oh, yes sir! Winky has all the special foods you asked for, and the wine is already open like you asked."

"Thank you," he said. He turned back and headed to the bedroom, closing the children's doors along the way. He plumped pillows and lit candles, showered and changed clothes quickly, and as he was brushing his teeth, he inspected his nose hairs.

Hermione had been gone overnight at a conference to present the latest joint effort between her and Chatwurth. She had also won the prestigious Jigger Award for Excellence in Healing Potions. They had been unaware of the award when Snape had declined to go. Chatwurth had figured out who Simon Shilling was, and although he had taken an oath of secrecy, he still tended to make Snape's life as irritating as possible. Whenever he saw him, he constantly pestered him with questions about his research. When she sent the message telling of her new honor, Snape had felt dreadful for not being there in her moment.

He was determined to make up for it tonight. It was an added bonus that Ron wanted to take all the children to the bonfire.

He tied a fresh cravat and dragged a comb through his hair before hurrying down the stairs while he slipped his arms into a fresh coat.

He saw her coming down the slope through the front windows and took a moment to admire her beauty anew. She was as trim and curvy as ever. But these days she had an extra glow about her as her career gained ever more prestige, and she was called upon to consult in more areas. She had a confidence and a graceful poise that always seemed to make him vibrate when he was around her. He still woke up at night in a panic that everything had been a delusion, and he was still in Azkaban or at Hogwarts. But she always woke up as well and pulled him into her arms, proving he really was this lucky finally.

He opened the door before she reached it and casually slouched against the frame. She saw him, and her face broke out into the sort of smile that filled him full of riches.

"Hugo says congratulations," he drawled lazily.

"I know. I caught them at the floo. And Draco as well. It seems he's going this year."

"That's no surprise."

"Then you've seen the looks Rose has been giving him lately?"

"No, I saw the looks he's been giving her for the last year."

"How do you feel about that?"

"What do you want me to feel about that?"

"Happy, I think."

"It will be hard for her," he said. "As it was for you. Draco could compromise her career as an Auror."

"Ron thinks she will pursue Defense anyway. She seems to prefer theory to stake-outs."

"She is a blend of both of you. That would not be a surprise either."

She smiled and then gave him a once over.

"You look dreadfully handsome. Are you going to let me in?"

"That depends. Are you going to kiss me hello?"

She giggled and lifted up on her toes and kissed him. The pleasure rolled through them both, and without any children around, they let it build. He pulled her into his arms and stepped back into the house, kicking the door closed before pressing her against it. Her hands tangled in his still damp hair, and he let slip the slightest moan.

"I missed you, witch," he said against her lips.

"Not as much as I missed you," she whispered back.

He kissed her with abandon and when she let out a deep, throaty moan, he lost his restraint and started to drag her skirts up her legs. She reciprocated by untying his cravat and tearing at his buttons until she had bared his chest to her satisfaction. When she latched onto one of his nipples with her mouth, he threw his head back and shuddered as he worked his hand into her knickers.

"Oh gods, woman. You're so wet for me."

"I need you, Severus. I've missed you so much."

He pulled her knickers down far enough that gravity did the rest, and then he started to unbutton the placket of his trousers while her greedy hands reached in and caressed him. He shifted his hold to her waist and lifted her up and pinned her against the door as she locked her legs around his waist. He kissed her deeply again and then positioned himself and drove inside. They both moaned at the sensation. He thought, as he had every time since the first time, that he might just die from the pleasure. In the end, it was quick, hard, and needy with little elegance and no grace. They ended up sprawled on the floor in the entryway with him looming over her and rhythmically driving their desire to something close to insanity. He opened his eyes and saw her half-lidded, amber gaze locked on his. He saw the love and lust in her eyes, and his control broke away. Her eyes fluttered closed in response, and he groaned and came deep inside of her as she moaned and cried out from her own climax. He collapsed on top of her, barely shifting enough to allow her to breathe.

"Why is it we hardly ever make it past doorways?" she asked breathlessly.

He rolled onto his back.

"Because you are a demanding, needy little thing, and it's my job to oblige you." He chuckled as she playfully swatted at him. "That, and the fact that with Thaddeus given to walking in on us at all hours of the night, we are usually incredibly desperate when we _do_ get the chance."

She heartily concurred with that assessment.

"Which reminds me, _did_ you put Thaddeus up to changing into you to drive Ron nuts? There's a vicious rumor going around that you have a sense of humor."

"No, I would never do any such thing."

Hermione pushed herself up onto one elbow. "Severus! You just lied to me!"

He pulled her down on top of his chest and kissed her. "Yes, but I knew you would be able to tell, so it doesn't count."

She scowled at him, but kissed his nose and shifted back to collect herself. Snape sat up and started to adjust his own clothing.

"Severus? How would you feel if I said I wanted another baby?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her solemnly. "I would say that I need another ten years before I could stand to see you in so much pain again."

Hermione bit her lip and looked down. "What would you say if I told you it was a moot point?"

"I would say I've been waiting a week for you to tell me."

"You have? You knew? When you didn't react, I thought it was the bond being slightly blocked again! Why didn't you say something?"

"It was the bond being slightly blocked again that let me know, love. I figured you had your reasons for waiting to tell me."

"I was just scared."

"I know."

"I didn't plan it."

"Neither did I, Hermione. What has ever been planned with us besides potions?"

"Are you happy?" she asked timidly.

"More 'terrified in a pleasant way' than happy. Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl."

"Oh, good then. We needed more of those. Come. Dinner awaits." He scrambled up off the floor and helped her up. "As does the future, my love."

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Thank you to all my wonderful readers. You make writing so much fun and so worthwhile! Thank you to all who reviewed, all who put the story on alert and all who marked it as a favorite. I am truly humbled. Special thank yous to all the ladies who helped bring this hectic, chaotic Soap Opera to you as flawlessly as they could: **Hebe GB, Dressagegrrl, **and also to** Whitehound.**

Thank you, for flying Angst Airways and have a nice day.


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